Those We Gather Close
by Ridley C. James
Summary: Mac and Jack are ready for a much needed vacation to Austin for Thanksgiving when Mac finds his plate full with the challenge of saving his partner from an unexpected fate. With Jack conveniently out of the way, Mac and his team are in more danger than ever before and left in a position where they are unsure of who can be trusted. SPN CROSSOVER/Brotherhood AU
1. Chapter 1

Those We Gather Close

By: Ridley C. James

A/N: This is sort of a Thanksgiving story masquerading as a beginning of a much larger Christmas story, because as you will see the boys will not be making it to Austin anytime soon. I hope it finds you all well, whether bundled up in front of a fire in the US or sunning in Australia, or somewhere in between. I hope you have much for which to be grateful. The enjoyment I get from writing these stories and hearing from you who read them are counted as two of my biggest blessings! Mike Briar belongs to Gib. He is introduced in her awesome story Lands and Grooves Hills and Valley. Craddock is from my story Paid in Full. It isn't necessary to have read that one first, but just in case you like continuity I thought I would throw it out there. Nurse Sally as always is Poxelda's creation. Thanks to Mary who made this better than it would have been.

RcJ

Mac might have looked at his father's watch for the tenth time when Matty continued to debrief their latest mission to Istanbul. He wasn't sure if their director was pleased they had only caused minimal damage by blowing up one vehicle-which in Mac's defense had been completely necessary and saved countless lives including Jack's-or if she was lamenting the woes of explaining once again to Oversight that she needed reimbursement for said sedan. Honestly, it was hard to tell sometimes with Matty because her default- as Jack liked to say- was ass-chewing mode. Mac thought she would have been a good drill sergeant and credited his ability to usually tune her out while looking completely interested as one of the benefits from his time in the Army. He was finding it harder than usual this go around, blaming the fact he was distracted by the last minute list he was constructing in his head of all the things he needed for his and Jack's upcoming trip.

It was still several days before Thanksgiving but they had decided to leave California early, taking time to actually get to Austin before the big day where they would accompany JP on his annual quest for the newest stock for the Narrow Path Ranch. This year Jack claimed his grandfather had a lead on the brother of the latest Kentucky Derby's winner, Always Dreaming. Jack joked that it might be serendipity because JP was always dreaming of claiming a stake at Churchill Downs.

At first Mac had balked at his partner's suggestion of the extra time off, from work and the search for James MacGyver, but Mac couldn't deny he needed the break from both. After Murdoc and the dicey missions they'd barely survived over the last few months, not to mention one dead end after another where his father was concerned, even he was having a hard time compartmentalizing. His mental trash can was beyond full and bursting at the seams. He had been off before the Bermuda Triangle, but Jack being shot had messed with his head and honestly he was desperate for a diversion, a much-needed reset, something the Ranch and a trip to Austin was offering.

Glancing up from the paper clip in his hand which was shaping up to look a little like a turkey, he found Jack's intense gaze. He hadn't missed his partner's furtive glances, the concerned once overs when he thought Mac wasn't paying attention. Mac couldn't even be irritated at the hyper attention. It wasn't like he hadn't given the other man reason to worry and they were dedicated to having each other's backs not only in times of physical danger but the more subtle aspects of an emotional bombardment that they both understood all too well could be just as deadly for men like them. The recent funeral for one of the men Jack had served with in Delta prior to Mac showing up in the scene was a painful reminder that drove home the all too sobering reality that a soldier could make it back stateside seemingly whole only to succumb to the invisible wounds all who served carried in some form or another.

This time however, instead of a deep frown or head tilted in obvious consternation, Jack offered Mac a roll of his eyes at Matty's droning, making an inappropriate hand gesture behind her back. Whether Bozer's snicker or Cage's raised eyebrow alerted their director or she indeed had eyes in the back of her head as Jack often claimed, she whirled on Mac's partner.

"Do you have some light you want to shed on the situation, Dalton?" Matty growled.

"Considering I was only semi-conscious through the last little bit of the mission, I'm not sure I could spin it exactly right." Jack glanced at Mac, who quickly went back to studying his paper clip sculpture.

"You're basically semi-conscious every day," Matty continued. "That doesn't stop you from insinuating yourself into my debriefings as if what you have to add is of vital importance."

Mac figured his partner had just added another ten minutes to their delay as he launched into a rebuff that would undoubtedly wind up their director further. Riley slid her headphones in and opened her laptop with a put upon sigh. Bozer pulled out his phone, no doubt checking his numerous social media accounts that he constantly updated these days. Mac glanced at Cage who was watching Jack and Matty's exchange with a hint of bewilderment.

Mac imagined the former CIA agent was still adjusting to their team dynamics, Matty and Jack's bickering only one facet of their unique group that was no doubt far from whatever Cage had experienced in either of her former positions. Mac was about to offer up an assurance, something he recognized he tended to do especially when he sensed someone might feel a bit ostracized. He blamed it on always being the outsider as a kid, that feeling continuing up until MIT where it eased when he met Frankie and her friends, only to return full force in the Army.

Pena taking Mac under his wing had been a bright spot, but even that hadn't done Mac many favors with his EOD peers, all of whom thought he was the top teacher's pet protégé winning a coveted spot many of them wanted for themselves. Jack had been the one to really make Mac feel included, the other men in his Delta unit following suit. Jack's team was the first place Mac had felt marginally whole and completely a part of something bigger than himself. He continued to have that in his and Jack's team now.

A sharp knock on the door to the War Room derailed any act of extending yet another olive branch to Cage, the novelty of such an interruption bringing about an abrupt pause in Matty and Jack's heated verbal volley. Before Matty could acknowledge or yell at whomever had mustered the audacity to interrupt one of her debriefings the door opened to reveal a flustered Jill followed by three men in suits Mac didn't recognize. The tallest, a black man with a bald head and a neatly trimmed beard clearly seemed to be in charge, flanked by the other two who didn't bother to remove their dark sunglasses as they all breached Phoenix's inner sanctum with the ease one might when entering a coffee shop. More worrisome than the men in suits was the group of armed men that accompanied them, decked out in full tactical gear. Mac quickly stood, along with the rest of their team.

The security detail looked similar to Phoenix's own, who, much to Mac's amazement also filed into the room along with another former member of Jack's Delta Unit, Deckland Landry. Jack had suggested Landry for Phoenix after his last tour two years before and since then their old teammate had taken over the day to day duties of running the tactical unit which Jack oversaw when he wasn't in the field. All the men were loyal to Jack, especially Landry, and Mac wasn't surprised when they seemed to be staring at the former Delta Operator with rapt attention.

"What the hell is going on?" Matty swore, her ire for Jack now transferred to the strangers who'd entered. "What are you doing here, Sutton? The CIA no longer makes curtesy calls before barging into another firm's house? How would you like it if I showed up uninvited to your place?"

"A little bird told me you have been prone to do exactly that as of late, Matilda." Sutton took a few steps forward, jutting his head towards Landry and Phoenix's armed guards. "I hear Bill gave you a friendlier reception than the one I'm being afforded when you broke into his house."

"That was a social call between two old colleagues, Franklin." Matty folded her arms over her chest. "This looks like business if your fellow trespassers are any indication. Protocol demands a heads up before such a visit, especially one from The Office of Inspector General, so I won't apologize for Agent Landry's vigilance in escorting you while you're here. We've not had the best of luck with surprise visits lately as I'm sure you're aware."

"This isn't social and it isn't typical business, Director Weber." Sutton ran a hand over his tie, his dark eyes going from Matty to Cage. Mac placed the man to be around Jack's age, nearly as tall as Mac's partner, and just as foreboding. Even if he hadn't been menacing, Mac supposed the fact he was assigned to the CIA's internal affairs division was enough to strike terror into anyone affiliated with Langley.

"Sir…" Cage started, earning twin glares from both Matty and Sutton, along with an added raised hand from their director, clearly indicating Cage should shut up.

Mac met Jack's gaze, noting his partner had moved just to Matty's right, slightly off to the side but still in position to put himself in between their boss, the rest of their team, and the interlopers.

"Then why are you here?" Matty gestured to the tactical team. "And why are you armed for bear? There's nothing or should I say no one for you to hunt here." Matty glanced at Cage, who was looking as shaken as Mac had seen her. He couldn't blame her considering the look of clear disdain Sutton had given her. "We've already cleared the air about any and all situations that could have warranted you bringing your boys into my house to poke around."

"You have nothing to do with this particular visit, Matilda. Neither does _former_ Operations Officer Cage." Sutton looked from Matty to focus squarely on Jack, his gaze dark. "Agent Dalton, however, needs to come with me."

Mac's heartbeat seemed to triple in speed although logically he knew that wasn't possible and was an illusion created by the surge of adrenaline that was now charging through his endocrine system. He found himself taking a step towards Jack, who gave Mac a slight shake of his head before grinning at Sutton.

"I'm flattered that you thought it necessary to bring an entire squad of your wind-up toy soldiers just to convince me to have a chat with you, Frankie." Mac recognized Jack's smile, the one that had nothing to do with warmth or welcome and everything to do with predation. Whomever this Franklin Sutton was, he was not a friend of Jack's.

"I'm not here to talk, Jack." Sutton took a step forward with what Mac imagined was an attempted smile of his own, although the sentiment was painfully out of place on the man's hard features as if he hadn't used the particular muscles required very often, if ever. "I'm here to do something I've wanted to do for a long damn time."

"Finally admit I'm the far superior agent and all around better man?" Jack smirked, though it didn't reach his eyes. "Because I agree that reality check is way over due on your part, old pal."

"Still the smart ass you have always been, I see." Sutton moved closer to Jack, hard lines on his face.

"Death and taxes, you know." Jack shrugged, feigning nonchalance. Mac didn't miss the way his partner tensed, or the fact he glanced at Landry and to his tactical team. "Some things are as certain as a sunrise."

"If you want to speak to one of my people…" Matty started only to have Sutton interrupt her.

"Jack Dalton, you're under arrest." Sutton waved the other two suits forward, one of them removing a pair of cuffs from his belt as they surrounded Jack.

"What?" The completely unexpected proclamation had Mac attempting to move to Jack's side, the atypical threat to his partner eliciting a well-honed protective response. He could feel Bozer backing him up, and knew Riley was not far behind. "What are the charges?" he demanded, his pulse speeding up.

"You have the right to remain silent," Sutton ignored Mac's question but blocked his path to Jack, stepping toe to toe with Mac's partner. "But I know all too well that's damn near impossible for you."

"Is this because I stole your girl?" Jack laughed, but Mac detected the slight change in the inflection of his partner's voice, how it had dropped an octave, changing similar to the way a wolf's growl might quickly go from playful to one of warning. "I know my abundant good looks and charm should be illegal but last time I checked being irresistible to women wasn't a crime."

"My agent asked you a very good question, Sutton," Matty spoke up. "What are the charges?"

"Murder." Franklin's eyes never left Jack's face, his smile turning colder and somehow looking much more natural on his face than his previous attempt at one. "Jack Dalton, you're under arrest for the murder of Operations Officer Clay Craddock."

"No. No way." If Mac had thought his pulse was racing before, it was off the charts now. The mere mention of Craddock was typically like tossing a match to kerosene drenched tinder-one of the many reasons he and his partner avoided talk of Cairo- but in the already primed situation Mac had to fight to keep panic from overwhelming him.

"Step off, MacGyver." Sutton turned on Mac, his hand lightning fast as he went to block Mac's way once more as Mac stepped forward. Whether he intended to make contact or not, his move shoved Mac back, causing him to stumble into Bozer, whose quick reflexes kept him on his feet. "Before I find …"

Sutton's words were cut off by the brutal punch Jack landed to the man's face. Not only did the strike knock Sutton on his ass but it instigated a shockwave of activity as certain as if a bomb had been detonated in the center of the War Room. When the dust cleared Sutton was picking himself up off the floor, Jack was struggling between the two suited CIA agents attempting to restrain him. Phoenix's and Sutton's tactical teams had raised their weapons, facing each other in a determined tension-charged standoff. Cage had pulled her own sidearm, but looked uncertain as to where to point it. Mac felt a bit like he did when he'd been caught up in percussion of a blast, dazed and unsteady, although he could sense Bozer and Riley alongside him.

"Stand down!" Matty ordered, although Mac wasn't sure if she was talking to Jack or Landry's team, possibly both.

Jack didn't comply, continuing to thrash despite the fact he was now secured in cuffs. "Put your hands on my partner again, you son of a bitch and see what you get."

"You going to strangle me to death like you did Craddock, Dalton?" Sutton made it to his feet, rubbing a hand across his mouth, smearing blood over his lips. "Maybe smash my skull in for good measure?"

"Don't answer that, Jack!" Matty commanded.

"Tombstone!" Mac jerked at the sound of Landry's sharp voice, the use of his partner's Delta handle snapping him from his momentary shellshock and surprisingly causing Jack to go stock still. "Stand down."

"You better listen to your man, Dalton." Sutton's warped smile was back. "Or on second thought maybe you shouldn't because I would love a reason to take you down a peg or two in front of your team."

"While he's in cuffs?" Mac shook off the hand Bozer still had on his shoulder, stepping in between Sutton and Jack. He flashed the man a challenging glare which he hoped spoke volumes on what would happen if he tried such a cowardly move. "The odds still wouldn't be in your favor and you'd look like more of an ass than you've already presented yourself to be."

"Don't push me, MacGyver." Sutton jabbed a finger towards Mac. "If a reputable witness hadn't come forward with an extremely convenient alibi for you at Craddock's time of death, Dalton wouldn't be the only one in restraints."

Mac wisely stayed quiet, wincing when his partner didn't show the same restraint. He felt Jack bump against his shoulder as he strained against the men holding him to get to Sutton.

"Clay Craddock was a traitorous sonofabitch that got exactly what he deserved, Sutton," Mac's partner spat. "If anyone in this room has blood on their hands it's you and the rest of your CIA cronies."

"Jack." Mac turned to give his partner a different kind of glare, hoping his warning tone held the right mix of 'don't be an idiot' and 'please just follow my lead' that Mac had perfected over the years during situations when Jack's pride, hot-headedness or protective streak led him to less than wise, although be it often noble, actions. In other words, he was trying to reach Bruce Banner in Jack's current 'hulk-out' moment. He placed a restraining hand on the older agent's chest. "Just be quiet, big guy."

"Looks like the rumors are true, Jack, and your boy wonder partner is a whole hell of lot smarter than you." Sutton had taken a handkerchief from his pocket and was attempting to clean his face. "Once this whole mess is over he might even find himself wanting to send Mike Briar a thankyou note for removing the albatross from around his neck."

"What does Mike Briar have to do with any of this?" Matty demanded.

Jack shot Mac a quick look that held no surprise, but a grim realization. "That sonofabitch!"

Mac ran a hand through his hair, sighing. Apparently the off the radar investigation Matty had been running into Briar's activity since Mac's little run in with the man in Mexico hadn't been as covert as they had hoped.

"Briar is the investigating operations officer on this case. I'm sure he'll be glad to share information with Dalton's council, when that's arranged."

"Which sounds like something Jack should do before he says anything else to any of you." Riley was the voice of reason. She frowned at Mac and Jack as if they both should know better. Mac did indeed know better and felt slightly chagrined under their computer tech's accusing stare that he'd been drawn in so easily to Sutton's show. "Lawyering up, that is," Riley continued as she moved her dark gaze to Sutton. She lifted her chin, adding, "Maybe you should save your empty threats for his attorney."

"Spoken like a properly vetted ex-con, Ms. Davis," Sutton's condescension was easily detected and the cutting mark had Jack once more lunging for the man and Mac again having to put a restraining hand on his partner.

"Enough," Mac hissed, lowering his voice. "He's messing with you."

"When I get out of these cuffs I'm going to return the fucking favor ten-fold by messing him up and I won't be using below the belt quips to do so."

"Getting you out of the cuffs would be a lot easier if you weren't acting like a raging maniac," Matty pointed out. "How about you try something really novel and keep your mouth closed until I get this whole misunderstanding cleared up."

"The only misunderstanding is you thinking you have any authority in this matter, Matilda." Sutton nodded to his tactical team. "I'll be leaving now, with my prisoner."

"Where are you taking him?" Mac demanded, hoping the spike of fear he felt as two of the tactical team Sutton had brought moved to flank the other agents holding Jack didn't register on his face or cause his voice to crack.

"That's information for his council." Sutton glanced at Riley then back to Mac, giving another cold smile. "You and your little sister should use some of that brain power and get to work on that."

"Call Hammond," Jack said, his eyes finding Mac's. He gave a slight nod and Mac's gut twisted at the concern he saw reflected in his partner's dark gaze. It was the same look of worry he'd become accustomed to over the last few months, one full of concern for Mac's well-being, instead of holding a healthy dose of self-preservation. "It'll be okay. He'll work this out, brother. We'll be on our way to Texas tomorrow just like we planned."

Mac nodded, swallowing to bring some moisture to his mouth to actually speak, but Jack had shifted his gaze to Landry before Mac had a chance. "Watch him, Deck."

"You know I will, Jack."

Jack winked at Riley. "Keep them all straight, sweetheart."

Riley only nodded, her eyes following Jack as he was led out of the War Room, Landry and his tactical team following behind. "Mac?" She said, when the door closed.

"It's okay." Mac assured, although he felt anything but confident as the realization Jack was gone and he'd been unable to do one damn thing to prevent it from happening sank in. "We're going to get him back."

"Maybe I missed it, but who the hell is Clay Craddock?" Bozer asked, bringing Matty and Riley's gaze to him.

Mac ignored his best friend's question, his eyes going to their newest teammate. He took some satisfaction that she looked almost as wary of his sudden attention as she had the appearance of Franklin Sutton, proving the wrath Mac suddenly felt was easily conveyed to his face. "I think the more important question at the moment, Boze, is why Cage has been feeding intel about us to her old friend, Mike Briar?"

To be continued…


	2. Chapter 2

Those We Gather Close

By: Ridley C. James

A/N: Sorry the update is a little late. I am trying to post a chapter at least each week. This one is important in that it explains and sets up some things but I hope you enjoy it just the same. Thank you for all the kind reviews that I have not gotten back to yet. I promise to be more on top of things soon. I do however have a missing scene for this past Friday's episode coming up as a giant thank you. Keep an eye out for _Schrodinger's Dad_ and I will try to have a new chapter posted on this one soon. Thanks to Mary who took time from her relaxing weekend and holiday baking to make this better. Mike Briar is Gib's creation. She nicely lets me borrow him.

RcJ

"I asked you a question." Mac took a step towards Cage, emboldened when she retreated, seeming to recognize that she wasn't currently dealing with the mild-mannered, thought-focused man she'd come to know. It was a mistake Mac counted on most people making about him, that just because he chose to use his intelligence nine times out of ten instead of brute force, didn't mean he wasn't completely capable and competent of becoming physically engaged if the threat was high enough. His partner being in jeopardy was by far enough motivation and he recalled one of Cage's first revelations about herself. She'd confidently explained to Jack she could be a person's best friend, or his worst nightmare. Mac hadn't thought about it too much, but he supposed they were alike in that manner. He might have detested violence, but he was not hypocrite enough to believe himself above it. The fact that being angry kept the gut-clenching worry about Jack at bay for a little longer was another upside.

"I believe you accused me of some wrong doing." Cage folded her arms over her chest, holding her ground now. She lifted her chin. "I didn't hear a question. You of all people should understand the difference in an interrogative and declarative statement."

Mac clenched his fists and took another step towards his newest teammate. He found it easier to be pissed than afraid, which is why he'd much rather focus on the wrath he was feeling than the fear for what could currently be happening to Jack. Typically Mac didn't do either emotion well, his default fell somewhere between even-keeled and logical. Instead of off the cuff reactions, Mac tended towards solution focused responses. It's what made him an excellent EOD.

Defusing bombs demanded one be level-headed and steady, with a light, purposive touch even in the most combustible of situations. The same skills were required of a sniper, and although many thought Jack Dalton and Angus MacGyver were quite opposites, they could in fact be very similar when it came to their particular skill sets. Jack, just tended to swing the full pendulum when it came to facing situations that didn't require him to be behind the scope of a rifle. Mac, on the other hand, often stayed true to his professional nature, except when he didn't.

"I don't have time to play games with you." Mac's gaze never left Cage's, his eyes narrowing. He could feel his pulse beating in his throat. "I need to know what you told Briar and what it has to do with Jack being arrested."

"Mac, do you mind telling me why you think Cage has anything to do with Mike Briar or this latest situation, because if you're jumping at shadows…" Matty's gaze shifted from one agent to the other.

"Sutton called me Mac's little sister." Riley was the one to speak up. She glanced at Mac, whose steady gaze was enough of an answer for her to turn on Cage, her mind making the same leap his had upon hearing Sutton repeat Cage's observation about their team dynamics. Mac had also been privy to the race of emotion that had flashed through Cage's gaze at Sutton's casual, and obviously intentional use of the term. She was caught off guard, and looked a bit gutted. "You called me that at the casino when you were treating us like pieces of a puzzle you were trying to put together," Riley continued.

"It's not a leap of the imagination to peg you as such, Riley," Cage explained, calmly. Her eyes staying on Mac. "Anyone who's around Phoenix very long can surmise that Jack isn't some crazy uncle figure but one of a pseudo father, specifically to you and also to Mac."

"Only Franklin Sutton hasn't been around Phoenix." Matty tilted her head, also regarding Cage with a sense of distrust. "Not many agents here are privy to the intricacies of Mac's team. I know this because I asked around-a lot-before I accepted the job of director. I got nothing more than a recanting of facts, such as Mac and Jack's military records, their stats in the field, and Riley and Bozer's background checks."

"Sutton obviously knows Jack personally," Cage pointed out rather weakly, obviously grasping at straws. Mac saw something flickering in her eyes for just a second but it was gone before he could pin down it's base emotion. "It's not out of the realm of possibility that he extrapolated such an assumption from knowing what kind of man Jack is and how he relates to his teammates in a family hierarchy."

"Stop lying!" Mac snapped, tired of the verbal cat and mouse exchange. They were wasting time. Time they needed to get Jack out of whatever Briar had planned. Cage might be the expert at spotting obfuscation but Mac had become well-versed in detecting insincerity. It had become a skill he'd never hoped to need, especially one he'd have to use within his inner circle, but Nikki's betrayal had made a very strong impression, Thornton driving home the point. "You're not helping your case. Just tell me."

"Mac, take it easy," Bozer stepped to his side. "Maybe she's telling the truth. I know you're worried about Jack. We all are, but…"

"Really, Bozer?" Mac glared at his best friend, feeling the illogical sting of betrayal. Especially when remembering Bozer was the suspicious one when Cage showed up that first day in the War Room, his reaction rightfully colored by what had recently transpired with The Organization. "Have you forgotten Nikki and Thornton? How about the good doctor Murdoc arranged to take care of you?" It was a low blow, but Mac didn't have time to coddle his roommate or to use the kid gloves he'd kept on the last year Bozer had been at Phoenix. If he wanted to be an agent, Mac was going to start treating him like a colleague and not someone he needed to buffer. "We don't know her, and she obviously knows Mike Briar."

"You're right, I do know Briar, but I have no idea who Clay Craddock is nor do I have any information about what just happened with Jack."

"Clay Craddock was Jack's first handler in the CIA," Matty supplied, glancing cautiously to Mac. It was clear she had read the file on what had happened in Cairo. He wasn't surprised considering Jack had asked her to investigate Briar. "Craddock was rather new to 'talent spotting' and Jack was one of his first recruits. They worked together for a few years before I came onto the scene."

"Recruiting to the CIA is complex." Mac spoke up, attempting to explain for Bozer and Riley just how relevant the fact Craddock had recruited Jack was to what had happened many years later. The man's betrayal was beyond personal. He worked hard to distance himself from the rush of unpleasant feelings that thinking about Craddock brought. Mac could feel his heart speeding up but for Jack's sake he had to stay detached, a monumental effort not made easier by the fact Jack was usually his touchstone when it came to chasing away the demons that Craddock and Cairo summoned. "Case officers like Craddock manage human agents, they spot potential recruits, train them in the tradecraft. They go about that by spending time getting to know them and their strengths and weaknesses before they ever offer them a position." Mac had tried not to look at anyone but now his gaze shifted to Bozer and Riley. "Craddock recruited Jack from Delta. They were friends before Jack agreed to come on. Jack's relationship with him was complicated to say the least."

"As mine is with Briar."

"Wait," Mac raised a hand, his hard gaze going form Cage to zero in on Matty. "Mike Briar recruited her? He was Cage's handler?"

"He did and he was," Cage responded, although Mac's gaze never left Matty. "I didn't think my past affiliations were so important when I was asked to join your team, and being former CIA, I assumed Jack knew." Her voice was hard.

"But you knew Jack would have never been so opened arms and accepting if he had known the truth." Mac continued to watch their director. As usual the woman was a stone fortress. "How could you not tell us-tell _Jack_ -that bit of information?"

"I think everyone deserves a second chance, Blondie, and you know as well as I do Jack would have let the very mention of Briar set his mind to whirring with all sorts of conspiracy theories." Matty returned Mac's glare with one of her own. It held no room for reproach, nor was it apologetic. "It was a need to know piece of information I didn't feel any of you needed to know considering our dealings with Briar have been less than pleasant and I wanted Cage to have a fair shot as I knew she'd be an asset."

"Mexico made it relevant, Matty." Mac wasn't sure just what Cage had over Matty or what their relationship in the past had been, but this felt a bit like a betrayal to the relationship their director had forged with their team. For a second Mac's head was swirling – how could a normal day, one that he had been looking forward to for weeks, become so screwed up? "Our current and still on-going, off the books, investigation into Briar made it relevant."

Mac had been taken prisoner in Mexico after Matty had sent him there with another agent. Tortured for information regarding a book that allegedly contained a list of names, rouge agents and supposed traitors. Briar had been on the scene and Mac was convinced he'd been giving the orders to the men who'd not only questioned Mac, but killed the man Mac was supposed to meet up with to collect the book.

"Matty and I reconnected because of her investigation," Cage interjected as if that piece of information might put her in a better light. On the contrary, in Mac's eyes at least, it proved his point. "Our paths had crossed before and she came to me with questions about Briar, thinking I might have some light to shed on his current state of affairs."

"But she hadn't had contact with him in over a year," Matty's tone was emphatic. "Disappointing for my investigation, but good for Cage when she later came to me about helping her with the rescue mission. I owed her a favor considering she pointed me to the people who had been dealing with Briar."

"Although this is all really interesting in a screwed up 'spy games' kind of way," Riley interrupted, her arms crossing over her chest. "I don't see how it's helping Jack or answering Mac's first question about Cage betraying us."

"I didn't betray anyone, or at least I didn't do so intentionally." Cage's words were lacking their defiant tone from before.

"What does that mean?" Bozer asked before Mac could. "I might be the newbie to this work, but even I know you don't just stumble on an opportunity to screw over your friends. Nikki and Thornton had to work at it for a while."

"Briar contacted me a few weeks back, after our trip to The Bermuda Triangle and our run in with Harper Hayes." Cage sighed, avoiding Mac's eyes. "He asked to meet up for drinks under the premise of discussing my impression of the prisoner. Briar wanted to pick my brain for ways to best go about interrogating her seeing as how I'd had an up close encounter with her."

"He what?" Matty looked genuinely caught off guard, the emotion of surprise not one Mac tended to associate with their director. On the contrary he'd learned early on that Matty liked things to go as she expected them. Going off book was not looked upon favorably especially by one of her team. "You didn't tell me any of this."

"Maybe she thought it was a bit of need to know information you didn't need to know," Mac offered, hoping Matty understood that she'd unknowingly set that precedent herself and was a hypocrite if she thought Cage should have come to her immediately.

"Can it, Baby Einstein." Matty moved toe to toe with Cage. "Did Briar ask you about our people?"

"Not directly." Cage shifted. "Looking back now I can see that some of the things he did toss out might have been baiting statements to perhaps test the waters on just how well I'd come to know each of you."

"Meaning he pumped you for information and you maybe said more than you'd intended, which is why you didn't want to tell Matty about it." Mac remembered how Cage had left his house on Halloween, begging off from Penny's party when Bozer and Riley asked her to go with them after all the candy had been given out. She'd also turned down Jack's invitation to hang out with him and Mac for movies and pizza.

"When Matty came to me about Briar she never eluded to the fact that Briar was a threat to your team, or that he and Jack had history. I honestly didn't' think it was a big deal." Cage sent a quick glance to their director before returning her gaze to Mac. "So, I might have had a little too much wine, and after the unpleasant business in the tank…"

"You slept with him." Riley's statement had all eyes going to her, Bozer's bulging a bit at the out of the blue revelation. She kept her heated gaze locked on Cage. " _That's_ why you didn't make a point of mentioning it to Matty, because you didn't want to explain why you slipped up and fell right into bed with your old boss. That verbal walk of shame wouldn't have been pleasant."

Cage didn't deny Riley's accusation, but her features hardened. "I didn't realize my personal life was under scrutiny by our team or that I had to report my off the clock activities to any of you."

"So much for not fishing off the company pier." Mac had not seen that one coming but it made a sick sort of sense. As far as he knew Cage had no connections or family nearby. The near drowning had obviously shaken her and any familiarity-especially that of an old lover- would have brought a feeling of comfort.

"Who do you think taught me that lesson?" Something closely resembling hurt rolled through Cage's icy eyes before they reverted to their typical aloofness.

"So, you literally screwed us over." Bozer shook his head. "Damn."

Matty shot Bozer a sidelong glance that spoke to him canning his play on words before focusing her full attention on Cage. "One, gross. I thought you had better taste. Two, you know not to put yourself in a compromising position-no pun intended-with someone like Mike Briar. What the hell were you thinking, Samantha?"

"Who cares what she was thinking." Mac was tired of wasting time. Dread had once again won over the anger he was feeling, especially in light of what they had just found out. It made it harder to make Cage the sole focus for his fury. He wanted to give Cage the benefit of the doubt, but wasn't in the currently in the right frame of mind to do so. She wasn't the first person to give into urges that were blatantly self-destructive. He wasn't about to throw a stone, not when he'd so quickly slept with Nikki, knowing full and well she was a liar and prone to manipulate those around her to accomplish whatever goal she set, but his only focus at the moment was helping his partner. "I just want to know what she told Briar."

"I told you that Briar didn't ask anything specific. I spoke in generalities, about the same things we'd been discussing the previous weeks. How I found it fascinating and novel that you functioned as a pseudo family." Cage looked from Mac to Bozer, Riley and then finally Matty. "You have to believe me that I wouldn't betray any of you purposively, not after you took a chance on me."

"But with Jack out of the way maybe you believe you can step into the role as tactical leader," Riley said almost matter of factly. Mac knew out of all of them, Riley had been the hardest sell on Cage. For all of Bozer's attempts to be guarded, it wasn't in his nature to hold people at arms lengths for any amount of time. He'd made more friends at Phoenix in the short time he had been there than Mac had in the years he'd been with the foundation. Jack had surprisingly welcomed Cage, and even Mac had started to relax his guard. Riley was still sitting on the fence. "Don't even pretend it doesn't irk you to follow his orders after you've been used to being in charge. You've told me as much, all in the name of girl power-right?"

"I respect Jack, despite him acting like a very large child at times," Cage returned. "And I don't need any assistance in proving I'm qualified to lead in the field. I'm as skilled as any man, more than most."

"Briar obviously thought our interaction with Harper Hayes would give him a plausible excuse to reach out to Cage." Mac brought the conversation back to the issue at hand. A part of him did wish that Cage was innocent and had been screwed over just like the rest of them. They had experienced enough loss and betrayal to last for a really long time. "Maybe he was testing the waters to see if Cage knew anything about our search for the notebook or how close we were to finding it."

"As Cage pointed out I never talked with her about the specifics of why I was curious about Briar's recent missions." Matty glanced around the room. "In fact, only you and Jack have been briefed about our progress-or lack thereof in our search."

"Briar never asked anything about a notebook," Cage added, her eyes going from Matty back to Mac. "As I've said before, he didn't inquire about anything that made me suspicious of his motives."

"Which only proves how smart he can be." Mac could see Briar grasping the opportunity that had fallen into his lap when they'd captured Harper Hayes. The man had carefully put out feelers to see what Cage knew, cautious enough not to alert them. The drunk hook up was brilliant actually, certain insurance Cage wouldn't be so forthright in mentioning their serendipitous rendezvous. "It could be that he realized quickly you hadn't been at Phoenix long enough to be a useful source."

"What's so special about a notebook that Briar would go to such lengths to get it?" Bozer asked, sitting down with a sigh. "I'm beginning to feel like I missed the punch line."

"We believe the notebook contains the names of rogue agents across the board-a sort of Who's Who of traitors." Matty glanced at Mac. "I sent Mac to meet with a contact over six months ago who claimed to have it in his possession."

"Was that the mission with Agent Sang?" Riley arched a brow in Mac's direction and Mac nodded grimly.

"The one Jack didn't know about," Bozer clarified, the look he flicked towards Matty showing he still disapproved of the move. "The same one in which you were taken hostage and injured."

"It was," Mac nodded, glancing at his father's watch, hoping General Hammond was still in his office considering the time difference in D.C. His anger was abating, leaving him jumpy and agitated. The need to finally act growing stronger by the minute.

"So how does Briar play into all of this?" Cage asked.

Mac's building distrust of their teammate might have been unfair and completely inflated because of what had just transpired with Jack but he couldn't bring himself to abandon his caution in giving her any more ammunition. When he remained silent, Matty sighed, giving him a hard glare.

"We have reason to believe Briar was in Mexico at the same time Mac was there. It's possible he could be tied to the death of our contact, as well as having good reasons to want to get his hands on the notebook before anyone else does as well."

"Meaning you believe it's quite possible he's on the list." Cage looked doubtful. "You really think he created this incident with Jack as a means of what? Discouraging your investigation into his connection to the notebook?"

"Whatever Briar's endgame is, I can guarantee you Jack's arrest is no coincidence especially seeing how Briar is the investigating operations officer in charge." Mac had no qualms imagining Briar to be devious and resourceful enough to devise such an elaborate and timely scheme. "Maybe he was afraid we were getting close to tracking down the location of the notebook."

"If he was, his fears were unfounded. My people have run in to one dead end after another. It's possible there's something there that the other analysts have missed but as far as I know, there has been no other mention of the notebook in the intelligence community and any leads on the dead informant are as about as cold as he is down in the morgue." Matty nodded to their computer tech. "Maybe Riley can have more luck. I'm afraid your trip to Canada will have to wait."

"It's okay," Riley nodded, glancing to Mac. "Jack's family and I won't be going anywhere until he's home."

"Speaking of bringing Jack home, surely this Briar can't just trump a bunch of charges up and pin our man as a murderer." Bozer looked hopefully from Mac to Matty. "Can't you just get him a good lawyer to prove Jack's being set up?"

"Only he's not innocent, is he?" Cage folded her arms across her chest, her gaze holding Mac's. "Jack killed Craddock in cold blood just like Sutton said." It wasn't a question.

"It's complicated." Mac wasn't about to tell a story that was only his partner's to share, especially to a person he still wasn't completely sure was on their side. "Let's just say Jack did what he thought he had to do and leave it at that."

"What about this witness that Sutton mentioned?" Matty asked, sparing Mac any further explanation. "The one who supposedly provided you with an airtight alibi?"

"There was only one other person who was with us in Cairo." Mac had been fighting off a feeling of dread since Sutton had explained why Mac wasn't being arrested right along with Jack. "Nikki Carpenter."

"Well this just keeps getting better." Matty let out another sigh, one finger massaging her temple. "I suppose I'll see if I can work that angle while you see about getting Jack a lawyer, preferably someone who is far out of Briar's reach if you get my drift."

"Or I could reach out to Briar," Cage suggested. When Mac's gaze narrowed, she raised her hands placatingly, rushing to explain. "Maybe I can reverse his little game, at least find out what evidence he has on Jack."

"Briar won't talk to you now, Cage." Mac crossed his arms over his chest. He hated to burst the agent's bubble, although her appeal to be of some help seemed sincere. "He knows what went down here today because he orchestrated it. He'll also knows that in all likelihood we know about you and him which makes you ineffective to his plan. Briar won't be willing to show any of his cards until he's ready for us to know what he wants."

"She can help me with going through the information Matty's investigation has gathered." Riley surprised Mac by offering her own olive branch to the other woman. Of course knowing Riley, Mac understood she could just as well have been embracing the idea of keeping one's enemies close.

"What should I do?" Bozer asked, getting up again.

"I have a special research assignment for you, Boze." Mac motioned for his roommate to follow him to the door. Once they were outside the War Room, Mac lowered his voice. "I want you to find me everything you can on General George S. Patton."

Bozer looked momentarily puzzled. "Wouldn't Riley be better at doing that?"

"No, because I don't want typical facts, buddy. I want the man's back story. Pretend as if you're making a movie about him, and you want to tell the side no one else knows about." Mac's hunch that the notebook's nickname was a key had been dismissed by Matty and her team early on, but he still couldn't shake the fact that it held relevance. If nothing else it gave Bozer something to do.

"That I can manage," Bozer assured, his momentary smile fading beneath a concerned frown. "This is bad, isn't it? For Jack, I mean. He really murdered this Craddock?"

"It's bad." Mac answered simply, his throat threatening to close up at the legal term as he let the fear he saw reflected in Bozer's gaze summon his own. "Very, very bad."

To be continued…


	3. Chapter 3

Those We Gather Close

By: Ridley James

A/N: So this chapter is so overdue. You may need to go back and read the first two chapters before this comes back to you, but I hope to update much more regularly now. There is mention of torture in this chapter, but I'm not one to really show those graphic scenes so mostly it will be a sort of blurred, recanting and nothing that should require a change in rating. I'm a bit squeamish and try to put the characters back as I found them-mostly. (grin) A big shout out to Mary, who made this so much better and as always Mike Briar belongs to Gib-who I hope is okay with how I have portrayed her guy.

RcJ

Mac was cold despite the fact he was sweating. He knew the shiver that ran through him had more to do with his injuries and the low grade fever he was undoubtedly running than the actual temperature, which was sweltering in the stinking stone-walled room they'd been confined to the last three days. The pounding in his head made it hard to concentrate, as did the throbbing in his face and ribs from the latest _conversation_ he'd had with their captors. Mac knew him pacing the small, confined room was only wasting energy he didn't have to spare considering he'd had nothing but rationed water and every breath he drew seemed to stoke the fiery burn in his lungs from the unsanitary water he'd inhaled during another even more unfriendly conversation.

It wasn't like he was going to find anything useful for an escape that he'd somehow missed the tens of times he'd already searched the bunker since they'd been taken. The fact was it simply gave him something to do, something to distract from not only his physical pain but more importantly the gnawing worry and fear for his partner that churned his gut worse than any rabid hunger. Jack had been gone for hours. The guards had come and taken him away just before dawn if the light now barely breaching the cracks in the ceiling was a fair indication.

Mac coughed painfully, wrapping a hand protectively around his midsection. This was a new tactic on their captor's part. Mac wouldn't deny that it was effective.

Seeing another human tortured was not something one ever got used to. If that person happened to be someone you loved and you in theory held the magic words that might make their pain stop but you couldn't or wouldn't offer them up, the agony was ten-fold. Still, watching that person take a beating was somehow less awful than knowing that the person you loved was enduring some unknown fate without you and that you held no power to stop it. This was especially true when one had a vivid imagination like Mac's.

Jack might have disagreed. Watching helplessly was especially hard on him. He had a tendency to draw as much attention to himself as he could in order to shield Mac as much as possible. Jack was wired to protect and defend. Mac was certain his partner suffered far more when his tactics failed and he was forced to witness Mac being hurt, than when he was the one actually undergoing the abuse.

Mac couldn't help but to feel a wash of relief when he heard the locks on the metal door turn, a far different experience than the one of dread he'd had all the times before when that sound meant an entirely different ending. Now he just hoped it meant Jack was coming back, in whatever state that might be. Mac could at least try and help, try to fix it. That's what he was wired to do after all, to solve whatever problem they faced by applying his vast skill set. That wasn't possible if he was removed from the equation entirely.

Arabic commands that Mac recognized faintly had him backing up, pressing his back to the rough wall. He stepped forward when the door swung open and another man was shoved in. Only it wasn't Jack who stumbled in the darkness and fell near Mac's feet.

"Wait." Mac tried to charge the door, only to have it slammed closed before he could take three steps. It rang with a finality that had him dropping his chin to his chest and grinding out a few choice words that would no doubt have had Jack telling him to watch his fucking language. He clenched his fists and turned to do the only thing he could. It wasn't Craddock's fault that he was the first to be returned to their prison and Mac felt a small wash of guilt that he hadn't even given much thought to the fact Clay had been dragged out right along with Jack.

"Clay." Mac knelt on the filthy floor next to the other man who was slowly pushing himself to sitting. "You with me?"

Jack's voice echoed in Mac's head with one of his typical responses, 'Will it hurt your feelings, kid, if I say I wish to hell I wasn't?'

"Yeah." Was Clay's reply although he didn't look as if he were exactly cognizant of his location.

"Where's Jack?" Mac knew it probably shouldn't have been his next question, but he couldn't quite control the words or how desperate he probably sounded.

Craddock lifted his head, revealing the new bruises Mac had expected, but an expression he couldn't quite decipher. "I'm sorry, Mac."

Mac started to put a hand on the other man's shoulder but paused, tilting his head at Craddock's declaration. "For what?"

His first thoughts were that maybe Clay cracked, told their captors the information they kept demanding, but Mac found that doubtful. For one, Craddock didn't have the intel. Even if he had known the location of what their captors sought, he was CIA, an Army Ranger before joining The Farm. He'd been Jack's handler and Jack had told Mac stories of what he'd seen the man do and endure. Mac had witnessed for himself the man's resolve during the waterboarding they'd been subjected to two days before.

Craddock opened his mouth, but no sound emerged, or maybe it did and Mac was too focused on the agent's hands to hear it. Clay was holding them out now and a roaring had started somewhere in the back of Mac's mind, making it hard to understand what he was seeing as he observed that even in the dim light, they showed wet and shiny. Blood.

The smell hit Mac then as if a clear visual had kicked his olfactory senses into hyper drive. Metallic and undeniable, he fought his natural gag reflex as his stomach lurched. He brought one hand to his bruised and aching ribs as he was certain the meager water he'd consumed was about to come back up.

"Are you hurt?" Mac finally managed to croak out breathlessly. It was a ridiculous question. Of course the man was hurt. They were all hurt. "I mean…where's the wound? I need to stop the bleeding…"

"It's not my blood, kid." There was a new expression in Craddock's eyes, something Mac couldn't or wasn't willing to discern.

Mac's initial reaction was to tell the man not to call him kid. Only one person got away with that, but Craddock continued on before Mac could get his voice to obey.

"It's Jack's."

"No." Mac's heart hammered in his chest as his hands seemed to take on a life of their own. He reached out, frantically patting Craddock down, feeling over the thin, sweat-dampened tee the other man was wearing, desperately searching for a wound that would explain the amount of blood that Mac could now see not only coated Craddock's hands, but that was smeared on his arms, his pants as well.

"MacGyver." Craddock caught his wrists with more strength than Mac would have thought possible, tightening his sticky fingers in a fierce grip that insisted Mac meet his gaze. It was done so with a pained wince, possibly a gutteral whimper that had nothing to do with any physical harm the other man was inflicting. "Dalton's gone. Do you hear me? Those bastards slit his throat, and they're going to do the same to us unless you give them the information they want."

Mac couldn't breathe. He was certain that somehow time had stopped and all those stories you heard about people seeing their lives pass before their eyes at the moment of certain doom suddenly made sense as flashes of all the things him and Jack had been through and survived seemed to run through his mind in a jumbled flash of blurred images. The roar that had begun in the back of his skull like a building surf mutated into a shrill ringing that seemed to fill not only Mac's head but the room. He let go of Clay to bring both hands to cover his ears and when he did so the other man seemed to fall away, or maybe, Mac thought, he was the one falling as the floor and everything solid around him wavered and melted into a flash of light.

"Mac!"

The sound of his name had Mac jerking, sitting forward with a gasp he couldn't quite contain. He blinked, trying to adjust his eyes to the brightness and shift in setting. The dark, cold dungeon had disappeared, replaced by open space, warm sunshine. The sound of birds now joined the shrill ringing. A touch to his shoulder had him jumping again, his breath hitching as his body instantly shifted to fight mode.

"Whoa, dude. Take it easy. It's just me." Bozer's familiar voice registered through Mac's haze and he whipped his head to the side, squinting his roommate's concerned face into view. Bozer had his hands lifted in surrender and had scooted to the end of the bench they shared. He inclined his head. "Your phone's ringing. Should I get it?"

"No." Mac shook his head, now recognizing Matty's ringtone coming from his cell as the shrill noise that had interrupted his nightmare. It lay on the bench between him and Bozer. "Where…" He started, lifting his head to look around. They were in a courtyard of an office building. The green space was small but several people in business attire shared benches and sat around the base of a fountain eating, staring at their phones or drinking coffee. Mac leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he dropped his chin to his chest with a heavy sigh. He'd not zoned out in such a way in a long time. He pinched the bridge of his nose, willing the pounding in his head to subside. "What the hell?"

"I think that should be my question, man," Bozer replied, cautiously. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." Mac sat up as the events of the morning came rushing back to him. He and Bozer were meeting the lawyer that Hammond had arranged for Jack at one of the CIA's offices. The building was in the Historic Core of Los Angeles and although Mac thought most of the office buildings in the Old Bank District were now mostly lofts or apartments he was surprised to find the old six story stone face still very much in use. He forced a tired smile, hoping to ease some of the wariness in his roommate's uncertain gaze. "I just dozed off, Boze. I'm sorry."

"You mean you 'fell unconscious' as soon as we sat down because you haven't slept in the last twenty-four hours, Mac," Bozer clarified, folding his arms over his chest. "You've been running on caffeine and power bars since Jack was arrested. You know he wouldn't want you…"

"Don't," Mac snapped, the warning in his voice obviously catching Bozer as off guard as Mac's abrupt awakening had. He knew his best friend was trying to be helpful but he didn't' need or want him talking about Jack as if he were gone, especially not after the all too recent flashback set in Cairo and starring Craddock of all people. "I'm fine."

"Right." Bozer rolled his eyes, but stopped hugging the edge of the bench and scooted closer to Mac. "That's why you're having the kind of dreams you haven't had since you thought Nikki had been killed and you look like you might be auditioning for some sort of zombie flick."

"Can we just focus on what we came here to do?" Mac glanced at his father's watch, willing the hands to speed up. It was still a few minutes before the meeting time they had set with Hammond's guy. The General wanted to come himself, but was tied up in end of the year conferences at the War College with dignitaries from several countries. He'd promised Mac that the person he was sending was akin to a secret weapon. Mac could only hope their old CO wasn't exaggerating as neither he nor Matty had been able to do anything to grease the wheels of justice. He cut his gaze to Bozer. "Or even better you can head back to Phoenix. I told you I could handle this on my own."

"No way." Bozer flashed a stubborn glower in Mac's direction. "Matty ordered me not to leave you to your own devices and besides Jack would bitch me out if he thought I didn't have your back while he was temporarily out of commission."

"It's a meeting, not a mission." Mac rubbed at his eyes, hoping he didn't look quite as bad as Bozer let on. "Matty was over-reacting and Jack doesn't need anyone to cover for him."

"Whatever you say, but I'm still not leaving." Bozer kicked his feet out, crossing them at his ankles. He leaned back against the bench, lifting his face to the morning sun. "It's nice to be out of the office on a beautiful day like today."

"Speaking of work," Mac figured if he couldn't shake his roommate, he could at least make use of his presence. "Did you find anything out of the ordinary on Patton?"

"I've had some interesting things come up." Bozer said cryptically. He kept his eyes closed, not bothering to offer further explanation.

Mac kicked his foot. "Like what?"

Bozer opened one eye. "Now you think I'm useful?"

"Bozer," Mac warned, his patience not what it typically was. He hadn't had any decent sleep in what was more like thirty six hours and he'd not even bothered with breakfast before they left their house. "Tell me what you've found out."

"Since you asked so nicely." Bozer sat up, glancing around them as if he were about to divulge national secrets. "It's not so much what I've found out about Patton, but who found me when I was doing my search."

"I'm not sure I understand." Mac was pretty certain Bozer was making his head hurt worse.

"I didn't at first either. When I started researching Patton I was just coming up with the typical things. You know, stuff about his brilliant military career and typical biography information so since Riley was busy with Cage going over Matty's intel, I reached out to the only other computer guru I know-Jerry."

"Wait. Five-0's Jerry?" Mac repressed a groan, easily recalling Steve McGarrett's extra special consultant. "The big guy who was convinced Jack was a super soldier and that I might have been hatched in a lab at Area 54 by the Smoking Man?"

"Brilliant, right?" Bozer looked extremely pleased with himself but Mac wasn't sure that Five-O's computer guru was the right person for the job. He liked Jerry and the man had been invaluable in helping them stop a madman from Jack's and Steve's past bent on revenge, but he was also highly excitable and extremely eccentric.

"I mean you did tell me to look past the normal search parameters." Bozer seemed to pick up on Mac's trepidation and gave a frown. "Jerry has not only the resources and skill for that kind of project, but the ability to think outside the box."

"Jerry is also a bit of a paranoid conspiracy theorist."

"Maybe, but he's a conspiracy theorist with a ton of contacts. One of who happened to be very interested in _our_ interest in Patton." Bozer bobbed his brows. "Jerry was over the moon that this guy reached out to him. He said _Doctor Jones_ -that's the guy's handle-usually only lurks in the dark web, that it takes something special to draw him out and for him to invite a dialogue with a peer is practically like winning the lottery _and_ power ball."

"And a search on General George S. Patton was enough to pique this genius hacker's interest?" Mac raised a brow in question. "Isn't that strange?"

"Not so much Patton, but Patton's Saber," Bozer admitted though Mac didn't miss the fact that his friend was bouncing with excitement.

Mac's headache was growing in intensity. He sighed, once again pinching the bridge of his nose in hope to relieve some of the pressure.. "We're looking for Patton's Notebook, not some sword."

"Apparently the two have a history." Bozer pulled his phone out, tapping the screen a few times to pull up a text conversation. "Jerry said that his search for Patton's notebook brought a ton of hits about the saber he designed and used in battle."

"Are we still talking about the notebook that supposedly lists rogue agents? I thought Patton's Notebook might have just been a codeword for the document." Mac didn't think George Patton or his weapon form the early 1900's would have a legitimate tie in to a modern day tell-all dossier.

"Now that's the big question," Bozer replied. "One Jerry is still trying to answer. I don't have any new messages from him yet."

Mac opened his mouth to suggest that perhaps Jerry was going down the wrong rabbit trail and maybe Bozer's energy might be best spent helping Riley when a woman's voice interrupted him.

"Agent MacGyver?" Mac turned to find a tall, striking dark-skinned woman dressed in a suit standing off to their right. She held a briefcase in one hand, a cell phone in the other. Turning the phone so Mac could see the screen, she arched a defined brow at the two men. "Percy sent me a picture from your days in Delta, but you haven't changed much."

"Are you Mel Leroux?" Mac asked as he stood, hoping he schooled his surprise. He had expected a man, not only because of the masculine name, but also because of the way Hammond had described the lawyer he was sending. Considering his experience with Nikki, Thornton and most recently the mercenary Harper Hays, Mac supposed he should have easily associated the descriptors of merciless, cutthroat and a 'real ball buster' with women as easily as he did men.

The woman nodded, tucking her phone in her bag. "It's short for Muriebelle. I found out quickly that being black and a woman were strikes enough in the male dominated courtrooms of the early eighties let alone sounding like a pretty trinket one might acquire on a pleasant stroll through Marseille. So, I shortened it."

"You're French?" Mac took the hand she extended to him and was met with a firm grip. The lawyer's accent was slight but still detectable. He imagined she had lived in the US for some time.

She gave another slight nod. "My family is from the south. Arles to be exact."

"I'm Wilt Bozer." Bozer extended his hand after Mac had released her grip, grinning. "Believe me when I say that Mac knows all about having a name that sets you up for grief. Try going into the halls of a middle school with a name like Angus."

"Percy told me he was instantly fond of Agent MacGyver for the very fact that he had a worse name than the one he'd endured growing up." Mel shook Bozer's hand, before returning her gaze to Mac. "He also tells me that much like him, you prefer to be called by your last name."

"I don't recall Hammond being instantly anything of me but extremely annoyed and incredibly put out, but yeah, Mac is good." He frowned slightly, feeling a little sheepish under the older woman's astute attention.

"If it makes you feel better he also mentioned your incredible intellect." The lawyer's mouth turned up marginally, softening the sharp angles of her face in a way that made Mac feel a little more at ease. "I think he might have even tossed around the words boy genius, along with the terms smart ass, insubordinate and extremely hard headed."

"That doesn't surprise me." Mac returned the woman's knowing look. "I won't tell you what he said about you, Ms Leroux."

"Call me Mel and spare me the glowing recommendation I'm sure he gave concerning my credentials. I can only imagine what he told you." The lawyer glanced at her watch and then to the building in front of them. "I could also give you a long diatribe of all the wonderful ways I describe Perseus Hammond but seeing as how you served under the legend's command in battle, I feel I would be wasting my breath and my client's precious time." She glanced from Mac to Bozer, all back to business. "Walk with me, boys."

Mac got the distinct impression Mel Leroux was not one used to asking people to do things twice. He shared a glance with Bozer before falling into step behind her.

"So it sounds like you know General Hammond pretty well?" Bozer asked, returning Mac's gaze with a raised brow as they hurried along to keep the lawyer's pace.

"Being married to him for twenty two years gave me a unique experience of the man behind all the brass, but I'm not sure anyone can boast knowing Perseus Hammond." Before Mac or Bozer could comment on the unexpected revelation, Mel stopped abruptly at the bottom of the stairs and turned to face them once more. "Considering the General and I haven't spoken more than a handful of words in the last seven years and I never expected his pride to ever allow him to dare ask a favor, I have to say I'm more curious about my newest client and the relationship he shares with my ex-husband."

"Jack and Hammond served together for a long time," Mac said, cautiously. He didn't want to say anything that might put Jack in a bad light seeing as how Mel and the general obviously didn't part on the best terms and Mel was Mac's best shot at getting his partner released.

"I always got the impression Jack and Hammond had that whole Brother in Arms thing going on, but with a distinct father and son undertone," Bozer added chattily before Mac could stop him. He didn't even pick up on the look Mac was trying to impart, the one that screamed at Bozer to keep his mouth closed just in case Ms Leroux was tempted to let personal feelings get it the way of professional duties. Instead he met the lawyer's gaze and jerked his thumb towards Mac. "Mac and Jack have the same kind of relationship, which now that I think about it Mac and the general sort of have that grandfather/grandson vibe." He rubbed a finger thoughtfully over his forehead.

"I see." Mel said, her eyes finding Mac's once more. She gave him another close once over as if she feared she'd missed something important the first time around. Mac tried to stay still, appear confident and feign nonchalance, sort of like Jack had taught him to do when he was being approached by a horse for the first time. "I suppose that would explain some things."

"Bozer hasn't been around Hammond very often, not nearly long enough to know him…" Mac started, hoping Bozer's unwanted insight hadn't made their already precarious position even more difficult.

"Sometimes an outsider has a unique perspective, allowing them to see things that others close to the situation don't always catch," Mel cut him off with a quick shake of her head and an amused smile that surprised him. "Which is exactly why I assume Perseus asked me to take Agent Dalton's case instead of pulling in a JAG."

"And did you, pick up anything that might help?" Mac asked, tentatively. He imagined Hammond might have also pulled in his ex-wife because Mac had made it very clear that this wasn't a situation in which they could trust people in their own circle.

"You bet your combat boots I did." Mel tapped her briefcase. "I'd say we were going to take the CIA to school on just how many violations they committed by forcibly taking my client into custody but I have my theories that they are far from ignorant of the loopholes they've allowed us."

"You mean they knew they didn't have a case against Jack?" Bozer asked, a frown appearing once more on his face.

"I didn't say they didn't have a good case to charge your friend with murder, Mr. Bozer, but I do think they pulled what they did knowing that they were stepping way out of their jurisdiction. If anyone should have been arresting Agent Dalton, it should have been the CID."

"CID?" Bozer looked from Mel to Mac. "Who are they?"

"The United States Army Criminal Investigation Command," Mac explained to his roommate, the implications of what Mel was saying sinking in. He looked to the lawyer, not believing he hadn't saw what was in plain sight. "Jack was still technically in the Army when Craddock was killed, even though most people thought he was working for Phoenix, including me."

"Exactly." Mel nodded, a glint in her eyes. "As soon as Percy told me how Agent Dalton came to work for Phoenix I saw the most glaring problem with the CIA heading this investigation." Mel gave another glance to her watch and then met Mac's gaze once more. "Unfortunately, it seems they rectified that situation very quickly by contacting the Army's Provost Marshal General. We've had a brief dialogue, but until his team has had time to investigate the CIA's claims, he isn't inclined to communicate with counsel."

"What does that mean for us, more importantly for Jack?" Mac would take one stumbling block at a time. If the Army got involved he knew things were going to be extremely more complicated but if it kept Mike Briar from pulling strings it could be an advantage they could use. Briar's reach would stop at Hammond's playing field, of that Mac had no doubt. However paternal Hammond might have felt about Jack, Mac was certain he considered him family. Delta had a code all their own, one that was as unbreakable as any genetic tie.

"It means that Jack may be expecting a visit from some CID special agents very soon and could very well find himself facing a wealth of charges, murder being the worst." She shook her head slightly. "Which is ironic considering the job he did for the Army, but things are never black and white when it comes to our military." Mel seemed to be choosing her words very carefully, and Mac suspected she didn't want to give him any false hope. "But at this point in time the CIA has no authority to hold him for the murder of Clay Craddock. In fact they are violating several of his constitutional rights by doing so."

"So we can go get him?" Mac nodded to the building behind him, fighting to suppress his building anxiety to do something. If they could bring Jack home, then he and Mac could figure the rest out together. Like they always did.

"I'm not leaving here without my client." Mel tugged at the collar of her suit jacket, straightening her already ramrod posture. She raised a brow. "Shall we?"

Mac didn't have to be asked twice. This time he was quicker than Jack's lawyer. He made it up the stairs and impatiently held the door open for Mel and Bozer. The high gloss Italian marble floors, stairways and a wealth of ornate black ironwork reminded Mac of the legendary Bradbury building. It even had the inner court lit by natural skylights and bird-cage elevators surrounded by wrought-iron grillwork.

"Does anyone else feel like we just walked back in time?" Bozer asked in a hushed voice one might use upon entering a library. "This doesn't exactly strike me as a clandestine operation."

"Which is exactly why the CIA probably chose it as a location," Mel replied, seemingly unfazed by the unexpected decor. She stopped at the first elevator, giving Bozer a pointed look. "Does your Phoenix Foundation look like what one might expect from a highly secretive, state of the art, spy lair?"

Bozer's mouth opened but no words emerged. Mac knew his friend was still trying to figure out protocols about when and where he was allowed to acknowledge Phoenix was not exactly what it seemed.

"Some people say our building looks like it could be a giant car dealership," Mac said as he willed the elevator to hurry up. He wasn't even sure where they were going, but Mel seemed as if she was quite aware of their destination and Mac had to wonder if the woman had dealings here before. He wasn't even sure what kind of law she practiced, which either pointed to his implicit faith in Hammond, or exactly how desperate he was to rectify Jack's situation.

"We sure don't have luxury spas or PR firms housed inside." Bozer pointed to the brass plaque on the wall which listed various offices.

"I'd wager a guess, Mr. Bozer, that those businesses perform very unique services," Mel commented matter of factly, as she entered the elevator. Mac and Bozer stepped inside and were gratefully the only other occupants.

"You mean the spa could actually be a front for some highly skilled plastic surgeons and instead of facials they give like whole new faces."

Mac rolled his eyes when Bozer made air quotes as he said the word 'spa'. It was obvious his roommate's mind was buzzing with outlandish ideas that could have come straight from anyone of the Jason Bourne movies he loved. "The PR firm could actually be a couple of guys sitting around coming up with artful cover stories and air tight identities for their agents."

"You never know," Mel said seriously and Mac silently applauded her laid back attitude in the face of Bozer's awe. "Apparently the alleged daycare on the top floor is a maximum secure facility for high value prisoners and detainees."

"Do you think that's where they've been holding Jack?" Mac wasn't sure if the woman was teasing Bozer or if she was relating legitimate intel. His heart sped up as the numbers flashed slowly on the panel before them, the red glow teasing at a memory from his earlier nightmare. Mac swallowed hard as Clay Craddock's blood covered hands flashed before his mind's eye and he worked hard at staying focused on Mel's unreadable face.

"It seems likely but my conversation with Franklin Sutton was stilted and the only definite answers I could draw from the man was that he would provide me access to my client at the time of our meeting," Mel admitted, her eyes softening a bit as the elevator dinged alerting their arrival on the correct floor. "I wish that I could have arranged for an earlier time, but I was in the process of finishing a trial when Percy reached out to me. This morning was the soonest I could leave Seattle."

"I couldn't get anyone to talk to me," Mac told her as the doors opened. He'd tried every source, including Sarah, who had been sympathetic to his quest but out of the country on a mission. She'd responded, but only to disappoint Mac by telling him she had no idea where the LA office might take a person of interest in a case as field agents weren't usually privy to such information. Matty's sources were just as tight-lipped, either too wary of Sutton or in the dark themselves. Their director had also had no luck contacting Nikki. Anything else Mac might have said was cut off as they exited the elevator only to be met by two agents in suits, and one armed guard.

"We have instructions to bring you to a briefing room this way," the taller of the men motioned to a hallway off to their right. There was no preamble, nor did the agents wait for an acknowledgement before ushering them forward.

"This looks eerily like Phoenix," Bozer observed quietly as they made a turn that led to another corridor. "Although I got to say we at least have a nice receptionist."

Mac noted his roommate wasn't wrong as he took in the different offices and sleek interior that didn't match the turn of the century décor they'd been treated to downstairs. Just before they reached the end of the hallway their escorts stopped, the armed soldier stepping forward.

"If you have any weapons they need to be relinquished at this time."

"I doubt that will be necessary, Daniels." Mike Briar spoke from the doorway off to their right. "Unless the lady is packing and Mr. Bozer has been sanctioned to carry despite being assigned to a research position at Phoenix, I know for a fact Agent MacGyver isn't exactly fond of guns." His eyes landed on Mac. "Isn't that right, Mac?"

Mac met Briar's gaze, not returning the man's smile or bothering with a reply.

"I'm Mel Leroux." Jack's lawyer moved forward, not offering her hand, but instead striding past Briar to enter the room where Franklin Sutton sat at a long table. "Council for Jack Dalton," she continued as Sutton made it to his feet. "I believe we've spoken on the phone."

Mac ignored Briar's grin as he followed Mel in, waiting for Bozer who gave the smug CIA operative a wary look as he joined them in the room and closed the door.

"I wasn't expecting you to bring company." Sutton buttoned his suit jacket, his dark gaze briefly going to Mac's before returning to Mel. "This isn't exactly protocol, Ms Leroux."

"Then it's fitting as it seems your agency hasn't followed such since the beginning of this smear campaign began." Mel replied, her tone cool and without apology.

"You're suggesting we made up the murder of one of our agents to harass Agent Dalton and sully his record?" Franklin tugged at the sleeves of his coat. "I'd heard you were a well-respected and successful defense attorney Ms. Leroux. I doubt you gained such a reputation by attempting to relegate homicide to schoolyard bullying tactics or by ignoring the fact your client isn't exactly a squeaky clean choir boy."

"Do you have a reason to want to bully my client, Mr. Sutton?" Mel placed her briefcase on the table as Mac clenched his fists willing his temper to stay in check at Sutton's suggestion Jack was anything but aboveboard.

"My only aim as investigating officer on this case is to see justice done." It was Briar who answered with a sincere look on his face and now Mac leveled the man with an incredulous glower he hoped spoke volumes as to what he thought of the agent's line of bullshit.

"It's funny that I find that hard to believe considering you and your office did nothing to follow the line of the law when you kidnapped my client from his place of business and have held him against his will for almost forty eight hours now."

"I think we all know you proving such allegations would be a complete waste of your time and resources that could be much better spent on preparing a defense for Agent Dalton." Briar's smile was gone now as he met Mel's gaze. "Jack is an old associate of ours. It's record that he, Sutton and I ran missions together for years. So who's to say he didn't come willingly to answer our concerns about his involvement in Clay Craddock's death."

" _I_ say he didn't come willingly." Mac stepped forward, clenching his fists so hard his knuckles turned white. "Your men took him forcibly out in handcuffs and we both know you and Jack haven't been anywhere close to cordial since you left him to die on one of your missions."

"Considering you were probably still in middle school at the time Dalton and I worked together maybe you shouldn't weigh in on what went down, MacGyver." Briar returned his focus to Mel before Mac could respond to his suggestion. "Jack was only restrained after he assaulted Operations Officer Sutton."

"Your unlawful antics aside, I believe you are now well aware that you're holding a man without just cause as you haven't formally charged him with a crime, mostly because you now realize you don't have the authority to do so." Mel snapped the latch on her briefcase opening it as she spoke. "I'm not convinced you were ignorant of that to begin with but even if you were, I informed Agent Sutton of his grandiose error in overstepping his bounds in what should have been The United States Army's jurisdiction."

"So he told me." Briar folded his arms over his chest. Mac didn't miss the glance he shared with Sutton or the small smile that played at his lips.

Mel removed a piece of paper which she slid across the table to Sutton. "I have a signed affidavit from General Perseus Hammond stating that Captain Jack W. Dalton was in the service of Delta Force at the time your operations officer Clay Craddock was killed. He was not a civilian nor was he acting on behalf of a government agency, which means any alleged felonious actions on his part are held accountable only to the military courts and if necessary will be investigated by the CID."

"I can assure you as soon as you made us aware we made haste in alerting the proper authorities." Sutton picked up the paper, giving it a cursory glance before tossing it back to the table. "We'll be cooperating fully with the CID investigators from here on out."

"Yet you didn't think it necessary to release my client?" Mel demanded, her cool gaze going from Sutton to Briar and back.

"We would have, of course," Briar actually sounded sincere. He gave a side glance to Mac before offering their lawyer his most contrite look. "Only he was under care in our medical wing. His physician didn't feel the patient was in any condition to be turned out on the streets." He shrugged. "Who am I to risk a citizen's health?"

"Jack was fine when he left Phoenix!" Mac made a move towards Briar, only to have Mel hold up a hand to stop him.

"Are you telling me my client was injured during his incarceration here?" One defined brow hiked up slightly.

"What did you do, Briar?" Mac demanded, his voice tight with anger.

"I didn't do anything, Agent MacGyver." Briar shrugged again, turning to Sutton who cleared his throat before speaking.

"It seems there was some miscommunication on where Agent Dalton should have been housed during the time he was being held for questioning. A few of our officers might have had a lapse in judgment brought on by the belief Jack was indeed responsible for the death of a colleague and showed poor impulse control and a grandiose lack of professionalism."

"Meaning you set him up to take a beating." Mac stepped around Mel only to have Bozer grab his arm, his fingers digging painfully into Mac's skin. All Mac's typical restraint was lost in the realization that Jack had been hurt and Mac hadn't been there to watch his back.

"I did no such thing," Briar defended, without much heart or real indignation. It was obvious he was enjoying the reveal as well as Mac's atypical reaction, which was the only thing that kept Mac from giving into his all too real urge to punch the man in the throat.

"I can assure you the incident is being looked into and will be addressed by the proper channels," Sutton offered, brushing something from his jacket.

"Trust me," Mike smiled. "The people responsible will be given their just reward. I plan to see to it myself in fact."

"I want to see my partner. Now." Mac shook off Bozer's grip and took a step towards Briar. "For your sake you better hope he's alright."

"You heard Agent MacGyver." Mel didn't attempt to reprimand Mac for making threats. Instead the older woman stepped alongside him, delivering her own brand of warning. "You need to produce my client immediately and if he has suffered ill treatment while in your custody, be prepared for there to be appropriate legal actions taken against this agency."

"I'll see that Agent Dalton is brought down." Sutton started for the door, his gaze not nearly as confident or assured as it had been when he was at Phoenix. Mac had to wonder at just how deep he was involved in Briar's plan or if he was a pawn being used to aid in the other man's end game, whatever that proved to be.

Briar met Mac's gaze, inclining his head to the door where Sutton had just exited. "If you would like to collect your partner's personal effects you can follow me, Agent MacGyver."

"I don't' think that's a good idea," Bozer spoke up, reclaiming his grip on Mac as Briar exited, not waiting for Mac to accept or refuse his invitation.

"It's alright." Mac met Bozer's gaze and the other man released him with a look of resignation. "Jack will want his things."

"Jack would _want_ you to stay the hell away from Briar, especially considering we're pretty sure the man had you tortured the last time you were alone with him," Bozer growled quietly. "But I know how you feel about me offering any insight into what Jack's particular wants might be where you're concerned so I'll just keep my mouth shut."

Mel had made conveniently made herself busy replacing papers back in her briefcase but Mac got the impression she was listening to every word.

"It's not like he's going to pull something like that here, Boze." Mac said, wearily. He rubbed a finger over his pounding forehead.

"Just like he didn't find a way to hurt Jack?"

Mac's heart kicked into high gear once more at Bozer's well-made point, but he merely shook his head and followed wordlessly in Briar's wake.

The man was waiting for him a few feet away from the now closed door. He pulled a plastic bag from his pocket, tossing it to Mac as he approached.

Mac caught it, noting the St. Paul pendant he'd given Jack on Father's Day the previous May after Jack had lost his one of St. Jude during a mission, and the leather cuff his best friend was rarely without. He looked from the meager contents to meet Briar's smug gaze with a hard glare.

"You couldn't have just given this to me in there."

"I could have but then I would have missed seeing that rush of sweet sentiment flood those big baby blues of yours, kid."

Mac felt his muscles tense with suppressed anger. "I'm really going to enjoy watching Jack bring you down a notch or two."

"You know I'm not sure you can claim to be some peace-loving liberal type if you just sit back and have your watchdog do all the mauling for you, but hey, whatever keeps you sleeping at night." Mike held up his phone, grinning like the proverbial cat who just ate the canary. "But then again you were out for most of the action with Craddock. Did you ever get the chance to see the replay, because I have to say I was surprised at the quality of images Nikki was able to capture with those security cameras from that alley in Cairo when you all finally turned up for exfil. She's a woman of many talents, that one. It's quite the bit of incriminating evidence she held onto I have to say, for Jack at least. It clearly shows _you_ weren't involved in the action seeing as how you were bleeding out and a bit delirious when Jack smashed Craddock's skull. Maybe Nikki wanted to make sure she'd have some leverage to protect her lover if things ever came to light."

"What do you want?" Mac curled his fists around Jack's bracelet to keep his hands off Briar. He didn't realize Nikki hadn't destroyed that video years ago. They'd all agreed at the time that Cairo would never be discussed and that any and all evidence of their time there would be erased, almost as if it hadn't happened. Of course, Nikki had since then proved herself untrustworthy and an agent who knew how to utilize all the angles.

"I want what I wanted in Mexico," Briar interrupted Mac's musings. "Patton's Notebook."

"We don't have it." Mac dug his nails into the palms of his hand to keep himself from reacting to what was basically Briar's confession to having been in Mexico for the very reason Mac and Jack had tried to prove. He was there for the list.

"Of course you don't." Briar made a dismissively gesture with his hand, lowering his voice, even though the hallway was empty. "If I thought you did, I'd just have killed you both by now and taken it, instead of putting all this effort into seeing your partner Jack crucified and hung out to dry by his beloved military."

A cold chill ran down Mac's spine. "And how does that get you what you want?"

"It gets me what I want because the prospects of losing one more person, especially another daddy figure, is plenty of motivation for you to get that genius brain into gear and find the damn thing for me."

"Even if I could do that, why would I give it to you?" Mac narrowed his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Because I will then give you the video footage of Jack killing Craddock that Nikki gave to me." A cold smile played around Briar's mouth. "I will also include the only copy of the proof that Craddock had shot the witness you were sent to retrieve along with doing the same to you and was clearly intent on offing Jack, when Jack took him out." His grin widened, a glint appearing in his eyes. "I mean it's probably not enough to clear his name completely considering the ape shit crazy that he went on our boy Craddock but I mean it does at least show he was provoked to some degree by a sense of self-preservation and protecting a fallen comrade. The rest, with the right lawyer, could be written off as mental duress, PTSD, maybe even temporary insanity considering what you two had just been through."

"And I suppose if I can't find it, you turn the first video over to the CID."

"I did promise The Army would have my full cooperation." Briar shoved the cell back in his jacket, shrugging. "I'm a patriotic citizen, after all. Service to my country is something I see as a calling."

"You really are willing to go to all this trouble to retrieve some book that has a list of rogue agents?" Mac held the man's gaze. "Even if your name is on that list…"

"I'll give you forty eight hours to find the damn book," Briar cut him off. "If I don't have some proof you have at least a reliable lead, I'll feed this to the CID and I can guarantee you their interest in the charges will be ramped, along with their desire to pin the whole thing on their very own scapegoat. General Hammond's golden boy or not, if the Joint Forces get whiff a whiff that the media might find out that a possibly disturbed and psychologically unstable special forces sniper has been working as a higher up in a government agency, they're going to make him their fall guy. Even if Jack doesn't go to jail for the rest of his life, he'll never work in the intelligence community again, which will put a huge damper on your little Team Phoenix."

"How do I know you won't just turn around and give the CID the video after you have what you want?" Mac uncrossed his arms, his fingers still tightly clenched.

"Well, you don't." Briar's smile widened. "I could give you my word as a gentleman and a colleague, but we both know that's not going to help you sleep at night."

"I could just kill you." Mac offered, not sure if what he was saying was bluff or entirely plausible. At this point he wasn't sure if he wasn't as unstable and as much of a loose cannon as Briar was threatening to paint Jack.

"I thought of that, because although everyone else seems to think you're some mild-mannered Clark Kent kind of kid, I happen to know that your alter ego Super EOD is just as ever bit a freak with a power that can make almost anything go boom."

Briar's gaze narrowed to hard slits. "So let me remind you of your kryptonite. You know, that debilitating weakness you and Jack have in common that renders you mere mortals when you think someone you love might be hurt." He took a step closer to Mac. "As you are probably well aware by now after we crossed paths in Mexico I have no qualms about hurting people, MacGyver. Maybe I have men in that little town you're from. What's it called? Mission City. Your buddy Bozer's family still lives there, don't they? And it's also possible I could know a few guys in Texas who are always up for some freelance work. Weren't you and Jack heading to Austin to see the grandparents?"

Not many things incited red-hot anger in Mac, at least not to the degree that he couldn't filter whatever he was feeling through a bath of cooling logic before it got the better of him. He'd always thought his ability to quickly douse visceral reaction, stoking instead a thoughtful response and calculated counter was what set him apart from most and made him not only an excellent EOD, but a perfect balanced partner to Jack, who at times seemed content to let his feelings take the lead and charge full-steam ahead, consequences be damned. Mac truly believed there were always options beyond violence. The exception was Mac's family. Briar had not been wrong when he called it a weakness.

It was why Mac was quite certain if things had not transpired the way they did, he would have had his hands around the CIA agent's throat despite the trouble it could have caused him, or Jack. As luck would have it, Mac hadn't had the opportunity to make a misstep because before he could react, Sutton rounded the corner followed by Jack. The initial surprise and guttural relief at seeing the older man was enough to temporarily redirect Mac's focus but was also short lived. For the second time in so many seconds he wanted to end Mike Briar in the most violent of ways possible.

Jack's expression was grim, his gaze darkening when it went from a slightly mesmerized Mac to Briar, who had the sense to take a step back out of the younger man's space.

Mac's stomach tightened painfully when he took in the vivid bruises on his partner's otherwise pale face, the puckered cut above Jack's right eyebrow and the other jagged one that split his lower lip. Mac clenched his jaw, attempting to reign in the emotions threatening to overwhelm him. There weren't many missions that they pulled in which Jack didn't end up with a few cuts and bruises, but there was something about the idea of how these injuries were acquired that made them seem so much worse.

"Briar." Jack's voice was icy, if a bit breathless. Mac didn't miss the way his partner kept an arm tightly wrapped around his middle, or the slightly hunched position he maintained while walking slowly towards them. His posture spoke to broken or at least bruised ribs, if not something worse.

"Looks like you joined us just in time," Briar laughed, easily. "I think your kid wonder was about to sully his reputation as the calm, level-headed one in your dynamic duo. I do believe he wants to do me bodily harm."

"Just proves you can bring out the absolute worst in anyone. I'm pretty sure Ghandi would have wanted to punch you in the face." Jack's gaze had once more found Mac's, concern now warring with constrained rage. Surprisingly, Mac's partner managed his own grin. "The last time my boy lost his cool it was with a sociopath serial killer. I guess the complete crazies are his threshold. You should be glad I got here when I did as bigger, badder men than you have underestimated him and lived to regret it."

"Or maybe MacGyver's the lucky one, considering he might have ended up spending some time in the cell you just vacated."

"That won't ever happen." Jack's grin disappeared completely as he took his position beside Mac, facing Briar. "At least not while I'm still breathing."

"Well…" Something almost lethal flashed for a second in Briar's cold gaze.

"Briar." Sutton's tone held warning. He jutted his head towards the way he'd just come. "We're done here."

"For now." Briar looked from Jack to Mac. "I'll be in touch." It sounded like a threat.

"You alright?" Jack asked before Mac could utter one word. He turned from watching Sutton and Briar disappear down the corridor to give his partner what he hoped was a look full of complete incredulity and disbelief.

"Are you seriously asking me that?" Mac would have laughed if there was one thing humorous about what they were facing, and if Jack wasn't three shades paler than usual looking like he might collapse at any moment. He gave a quick shake of his head instead, raking a hand through his hair. "Sometimes I think you could be missing a limb and a few vital organs and still be more worried about me."

"Hey, I may be banged up, but I hate to break it to you, bud, you look a hell of a lot more shaken up than I feel."

"That's not possible, Jack." Mac found it hard to meet his partner's gaze, but did so knowing trying to brush off Jack's concern was akin to breaking his old dog's Archimedes hold on a tug rope once he had his teeth locked on it. "You look like you just went ten rounds with Tyson. With your hands tied behind your back."

"Tyson doesn't have anything on that crazy chick, Harper Hayes, man. Trust me." Jack's mouth twitched, though he carefully shifted his weight to lean against the wall. "I'm pretty sure she's like Wolverine's sister."

"Harper Hayes did this to you?" Mac remembered the file he'd read on the woman, and the fact she'd single-handedly taken out a highly trained Special Forces team, not to mention what she'd done to Cage.

"Not by herself." Jack defended his arm tightening across his mid-section. A pained look crossed his face for a second before he could mask it. "Remember that big dude we were transporting when we crashed the helicopter?"

"He's here?" Mac frowned confused, not understanding how that was possible considering he was pretty certain the guy was rotting in a federal super max prison.

"No, but I'm pretty sure I had the pleasure of meeting his meaner and uglier twin brothers. Think Vin Diesel and his buddy, The Rock only bigger." Jack brought a hand up and wrapped his fingers around the back of Mac's neck. "Now what's your excuse?"

Mac didn't even bother trying to escape the hold, Jack's fingers warm and more steadying than he cared to admit. He took a breath and let it out slowly. He lifted his eyes to meet Jack's, knowing he was probably revealing more misery than Jack needed dumped at his feet, but unable to quite deny himself the shelter. "Besides you being taken into custody and me not knowing where the hell you were or what was happening to you? It wasn't quite what you went through when Murdoc took me, but you've been AWOL a lot longer so I call it even."

"Yeah, that sucks." Jack nodded, his dark gaze glinting in a way that made Mac think that his partner could somehow see the traces of the nightmares Mac had been having about Cairo. Like the memories had incredibly left tell-tale marks on his face. It was a ridiculous thought, but if Bozer wasn't exaggerating and Mac did indeed look like death warmed over maybe he wasn't being completely irrational. Jack knew him well enough to probably know the timing of his being arrested couldn't have been worse considering all that had happened to them in the previous months, events that already had already kicked the older agent's papa bear mode into overdrive. "I'm sorry, kid."

"Don't." Mac dropped his chin to his chest, taking another deep breath and silently berating his selfishness. "Don't say you're sorry for this when it's not your fault. None of this…" Mac looked up, making sure they were still alone, although it was highly possible they were being watched by surveillance. The fact Briar had been willing to speak freely only moments before gave him some assurance that audio may not be an issue but still he lowered his voice, returning his serious gaze to Jack's. "We both know who's to blame."

"My vote is for Briar." Jack squeezed his neck once more, before letting his hand slide away with a sigh which told Mac his partner knew exactly who Mac believed was really to blame. He might not have had any control over what Craddock had done to them, but Mac couldn't stop thinking that if not for Jack's innate drive to protect him at all costs, they wouldn't be in their current mess. "What did the bastard say to you?"

"He admitted to being in Mexico. Just like we thought-he wants the notebook." Mac rubbed a hand over his forehead, the pounding had lessened but not by much.

"So I gathered from the chat he and I had about us helping him achieve that objective."

"He told you about the footage?" Mac asked, eyeing Jack with concern as the man shifted one foot from the other, obviously trying to alleviate his pain.

"That he did," Jack nodded, his face tight with discomfort.

"Why would Nikki keep that footage? More importantly, why would she give it to him?" Mac was torn between moving them into the briefing room were Jack could sit down and keeping the semblance of privacy the corridor offered them.

"I don't know, kid." Jack slid a hand down his face, wincing as if the motion hurt more than he thought it would. "The last time I saw it was when I showed it to you as proof that bastard wouldn't be coming back, that he was gone for good." He let the back of his head rest against the wall with a slight thud. "Nikki said she'd take care of it and like an idiot I believed her."

Mac swallowed hard, remembering the last ditch desperate act on his partner's part. Mac's body had recovered quickly from their ordeal in Cairo, but his mind was another thing. It had been akin to coming back from Afghanistan. Mac had struggled to lock the ordeal away, to neatly compartmentalize all the bad stuff that went down like he usually did only it didn't go as smoothly as he hoped. Jack might have promised he'd taken care of Craddock, but the man still roamed free and wreaked havoc in Mac's dreams. At least until Jack showed him proof that Clay would never be returning. Mac wasn't sure why watching the actual footage changed things but it did, only now that security seemed to be unraveling in the wake of an entirely different threat that he might lose Jack.

Mac closed his eyes, resting against the wall next to Jack. "It's like Craddock's come back from the grave to get the last laugh."

"Hey now, I'm the one in this partnership who believes in ghosts and all that superstitious nonsense. Mulder to your Scully-remember." Jack's hand found Mac's shoulder this time with a firm grip. When Mac opened his eyes he offered a grin which made Mac feel incredibly guilty for letting his partner comfort him when he so obviously was the one in need of immediate care. Amusement flashed in Jack's eyes, shadowing the weariness for a moment. "Well, except for the whole Santa business, which we're not even going to talk about."

"We need to talk about what we're going to do if we can't find the notebook, Jack." Mac pushed away from the wall, serious. "But first we need to get you to medical at Phoenix."

"I just spent twenty four hours in medical, brother." Jack narrowed gaze, the fact he maintained a hold on the younger man insisted Mac pay attention. "I have a few cracked ribs, a pummeled kidney and bruises in places I'm not going to show you. The mild concussion was the worst of it, but you know how hard my head is."

"I know one day your brain is going to be the prized trophy in a jar on some neuroscientist's shelf." Mac lifted a hand, offering Jack the plastic bag which held his personal effects. He gave a slight roll of his eyes. "It will be a huge conversation starter in research circles, like something that should be in a Ripley's Believe It or Not showcase."

"I'm not donating _this_ body to science." Jack took the bag with a frown. "Just the thought of becoming some overzealous med student's cadaver buddy is enough to have me liking the idea of you and Riley taking a Phoenix chopper up so you can spread my ashes over AT&T Stadium during a Cowboy's game."

"Can we please not talk about your demise when you're looking like you might pass out any time now?" Mac knew he'd sort of started the conversation but Jack didn't call him on it, possibly because Mac hadn't been able to stop the slight hitch in his voice or the unbidden flash of pain that more than likely raced through his gaze at the mere thought of Jack's death. Instead he gave a quick nod and let Mac's shoulder go.

"I can agree to that if you agree to me passing out at your place and not Phoenix." Jack glanced around the hallway, his forced cavalier attitude slipping to be replaced by an expression Mac hadn't witnessed in a long while. "I've got to be honest, brother. Being in that cell and then handcuffed in a med bay has made me a bit homesick for wide open spaces and familiar places if you know what I mean."

"Sure, big guy." Mac swallowed hard, his stomach tightening as he gestured to the door to the debriefing room. "Let's tell Bozer and your lawyer that we're ready to get out of here."

"My lawyer, huh?" Jack limped beside Mac as they made their way the few feet down the corridor. "Hammond get me some hot shot JAG? I'll owe him forever if she looks like Catherine Bell."

"Hammond did you one better." Mac couldn't quite prevent the grin that hinted at his mouth though he tried to remain serious. "He sent you a renowned defense attorney whose undeniable beauty seems to be matched only by her knowledge of the law."

"You don't say." Jack clapped a hand on Mac's shoulder.

Mac quirked a brow. "Think the super model, Iman, only French."

"Iman as in the _Iman_ who was married to my man, David Bowie?" Jack was now looking extremely pleased and despite the cuts and the contusions almost back to himself.

"Well, as coincidence would have it, turns out Mel _was_ actually married to one of your heroes."Mac said cryptically.

Jack reached out and gripped Mac's wrist, stopping him from opening the door. "If Demi Moore is behind that door, I may not need to worry about going to jail, Mac. I could die a happy man, here and now."

"Jack, Demi Moore isn't a lawyer. I don't think she's every even _portrayed_ a lawyer. Think less Die Hard and more Full Metal Jacket." When Jack's face went from excited to confused, Mac merely gave him a grin. "Don't worry. I'll let Bozer explain."

To be continued…

So, this is new-I am suggesting homework before the next chapter. ;-) If you haven't read my story Brotherhood Code, you might want to! Just saying...


	4. Chapter 4

Those We Gather Close

By: Ridley

A/N: So a little treat seeing as how we have no new episode tonight. I hope this may tide you over a bit. As always thanks to Mary, whose beta skills made this much better and to all of those who have taken time to review, favorite or follow this little story. I hope it does not disappoint.

RcJ

"Being loved deeply by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage."-Lao Tzu

Jack stepped out of the hot shower with some reluctance. The near scalding spray and steam had helped ease not only the stiff muscles he'd gained from sleeping on a hard cot, but the numerous aches that throbbed from various spots over his body. After years in the desert, he'd sworn he'd never take hot showers or clean underwear for granted again, but as with most everyday American indulgences he'd quickly abandoned the resolution, failing to appreciate the gift of access to clean water along with countless other everyday luxuries after he'd been back stateside for a length of time. Three days in CIA custody though and an all too real threat of prison looming in his future renewed his appreciation for the liberties.

Jack swiped a hand across the mirror over the sink, wincing when even this slight movement had his ribs protesting. He caught a look at himself in the streak of glass now free of condensation. It wasn't pretty and running some gel over his hair wasn't going to do much. He'd not bothered to shave, figuring scraping away the days growth of beard would only reveal more evidence of the good times he'd had thanks to his old buddy Briar. Mac studying him with guilt in his unguarded gaze was bad enough, but Riley would be showing up soon and he didn't want her needlessly worrying about him although she'd pretend irritation at his lack of self preservation skills. Besides, Jack figured the beard suited his situation. It felt as familiar as a flak jacket, camouflage for combat.

Getting dressed was easier than taking his clothes off had been and he once more gave thanks for the shower that loosened muscles he knew would soon stiffen over. He didn't bounce back from a beating like he used to. Forty sucked. Taking advantage of the reprieve he pulled worn jeans and tee-shirt out of the go bag he kept at Mac's, not bothering with socks. He was pretty sure his ribs wouldn't take kindly to any bending and it wasn't like he'd be leaving anytime soon. Thanks to Mac, the rest of their team was coming to them.

For a moment he leaned against the sink, both hands bracing his weight. Slowly but surely the whole situation started to sink in, the looming Damocles Sword above his head. He exhaled slowly, his fingers gripping the cool porcelain. It was quite possible he was screwed. Ironically, Jack was sure there were things he'd done that maybe warranted a long prison sentence, but Craddock hadn't once crossed his conscious-except in regard to his failure to protect Mac from the bastard.

Beating back the unhelpful thoughts to the dark recesses of his mind, Jack took a label-less prescription bottle from the bottom of the bag shaking a few of the potent pills from inside. He dry swallowed them, reminding himself to restock sooner rather than later. Jack hoped they'd kick in, and figured if he didn't want to be unconscious when the others showed up, he better see if Bozer had come through on his promise of an early dinner as his last meal had been sometime the day before. He tossed his wet towels and dirty clothes in the hamper, opening the door to slowly make his way to the living room.

The glorious smell of bacon and eggs had him pausing at the kitchen where Bozer worked his magic at the stove. He raised a brow at Jack.

"I was about to come check on you." Bozer expertly flipped a pancake, flashing Jack a half grin as if he could hear Jack's stomach growling from across the room. "Food will be ready anytime."

"Breakfast for dinner?" Jack had made his way to the counter, snatching a piece of bacon from the platter. The fact the temperamental chef didn't slap his hand or scold him for picking before everything was finished a testament to the fact Jack looked as bad as he feared.

"One of your favorites." Bozer nodded, sliding the hotcake onto the plate before pouring more batter into the skillet. "I also made some tea," Bozer gestured to the kettle and cup he'd filled, giving Jack a look that said it wasn't a suggestion and that he expected him to drink it. "One of Nana Beth's herbal remedies to aid what ails you, so I would heed her advice and generously add some honey to make it go down easier."

"Where's Mac?" Jack asked, carefully taking another bite of the bacon he'd swiped. His jaw ached with the effort, and the saltiness stung his split lip. He knew one of Mac's disgustingly healthy smoothies would have probably been more his speed currently, but was abundantly grateful Bozer had gone all out as the pain was far outweighed by the meat's crispy goodness.

"Last I checked he was looking at some of the research Jerry sent me."

"My man Jerry." Jack grinned, wincing when it pulled at his injured mouth. He reached for the tea cup when Bozer shot him another knowing glance. He didn't doubt his Nana's tea making, but wasn't sure imbibing the bitter brew was going to ease his suffering. He was hanging his hopes on the Vicodin. If it would make Bozer feel better he'd entertain the idea of the healing elixir and had to admit it if nothing else it was comforting to wrap his fingers around the warm mug. He carefully reached for the honey. "You and Mac mentioned he'd been helping."

"That was my idea." Bozer said proudly, flipping the newest pancake. "Mac thought it might be a waste of time, but at this point, I figure we can use any and all the help we can get."

Mac and Jack had let Bozer in on what Briar was asking of them as they made the drive from downtown LA back to Mac's place. Nobody was more surprised than Jack that Bozer had become a valuable asset to their team, but he still found himself hesitant to get the younger man into a situation in which he might be over his head and end up hurt. It was hard enough to watch his partner's back, let alone trying to babysit a newbie.

Jack concentrated on squeezing the honey into his cup instead of looking at the younger man. "You know this isn't your problem, Boze…"

"Are you really about to tell me I'm not a part of this?" Bozer lifted the pan from the hot burner as Jack met his gaze. He frowned at the former Delta. "Because I am not above throwing all this amazing food in the trash if you even hint at me not helping because I'm still in training or some bullshit like that."

"Hey now. What's that pancake ever done to you, dude." Jack raised a hand in surrender. Even if the thought of having one more person to worry about made his head hurt it also felt good to know someone else was on his side. Especially after the last two days he had spent in 'friendly' company. "Let's not do anything crazy."

"That's what I thought." Bozer rolled his eyes. "Now go tell Mac that dinner is ready before my masterpiece gets cold."

Jack made an effort to keep his limp to a minimum as he made his way out to the living room. He could hear Bozer muttering under his breath, catching the words stubborn and hard-headed. Jack often took full advantage of Bozer's tendency to go full on mother hen mode when Mac was hurt, knowing he could get Mac to do things sometimes that Jack couldn't merely because as a patient Mac could tend to buck up against anything on Jack's part that he saw as hovering or coddling. However, Jack was not usually on the receiving end of Bozer's attention and was beginning to wonder if he wasn't about to get a taste of his own medicine.

Any thoughts of hoping Mac might take pity and run interference fled as he made it to the couch only to find his partner fast asleep. The laptop was still on Mac's legs which were stretched out the length of the sofa, its screen was dark and the kid's head rested against the back of the sofa at an uncomfortable looking angle. Jack weighed the option of waking his partner for dinner verses letting him get some much needed shut eye, even if it meant he'd wake with a crick in his neck. It had been painfully obvious that Mac hadn't gotten much rest since Jack had been arrested.

He would have been a hypocrite to lecture his best friend on pushing himself too hard and wearing himself thin when they both knew damn well that if the roles had been reversed Jack would have done the same thing. Only Jack might not have had the restraint that kept Mac from forming a full on assault team and mounting a search and destroy mission which could have required they relocate to a country without extradition to the US. Still, seeing the undeniable evidence of Mac having put himself through the emotional ringer and knowing he was in part to blame for his best friend's turmoil incited a familiar frustration. If it hadn't been that this latest curve ball came on the tail end of Murdoc and in the midst of the very fruitless search for James MacGyver, Jack might not have been so worried. His partner was after all one of the strongest and most resilient men he had ever known. But as usual, their luck and timing sucked.

Jack carefully picked up the computer, closing it before sitting it on the coffee table. He grabbed a blanket from the other end of the sofa and draped it over his partner. Mac shifted in his sleep, muttering something, his brow furrowing. Jack placed his hand gently on the kid's head, wishing he could somehow magically vanquish any monsters in Mac's mind like he did the ones that dared take them on in real life. He hoped to at least impart some kind of comfort with his mere presence, something he might not be able to offer in the very near future. The thought had the few bites he'd eaten churning in his gut. It was tempting just to shake the younger man awake, ending any king of threat with Bozer's summons to dinner, but Jack had a feeling there wasn't going to be a lot of opportunity for rest if they followed Briar's imposed timeline, and Mac obviously needed whatever downtime he could get.

Skimming his fingers over the kid's hair Jack forced himself to let his partner sleep, potential nightmares be damned. He once more chased off thoughts that he might have to abandon his post as Mac's protector. If that time came, Jack wasn't sure what he might do, but for now he would only be a few steps away if the ghosts came.

"Where's Mac?" Bozer asked when Jack returned alone.

"He's out." The older agent took one of the bar stools, reclaiming the tea he'd abandoned. "Dead to the world."

"That's probably a good thing." Bozer placed an overflowing plate of pancakes, bacon, and eggs in front of Jack. He glanced at the older man, his brow furrowing. "He didn't do much sleeping the last couple of days."

"Yeah," Jack took a drink of his tea, shaking his head at the pungent mix of flavors as it left a bitter taste on his tongue. He picked up a fork, briefly meeting Bozer's intense gaze. "So I gathered."

"When he did give in and doze off, nightmares showed up." Bozer took the plate he'd obviously fixed for Mac, covering it before placing it in the warm oven. When he was finished he grabbed his coffee and own food, joining Jack at the island. He leaned against the counter, folding his arms over his chest. "He didn't want to talk about it."

"That surprise you, man?" Jack swallowed his first bite of pancake, holding back the moan of pleasure. He shoveled some eggs onto his fork, trying to ignoring the wash of guilt he felt for the added stress Mac was going through.

"No." Bozer grunted, rubbing a finger over his eyebrow. "It's not like I expected him to suddenly open up and tell me what the hell is going on with him." He shrugged, almost a little indignantly. "Not that I don't know him just about better than anyone or that I now happen to be in on the whole secret agent gig and can relate better than most people to what he's going through."

"Boze," Jack put his fork down, eggs still on it. He waited for Bozer to look at him. "I get that you know Mac, that you've been on his side a lot longer than me. It helps that he can now share every facet of his life with you, but there are some things that you still don't get."

"Like all the Army stuff."

Jack tried not to take it personal when Bozer sounded more than a little over and off put by the idea of being clueless about a soldier's life. He bit back on the 'Hell yes, the fucking Army stuff' that wanted so badly to slip out. Instead, Jack took a shallow breath, his ribs not bothering him that much anymore thanks to the strong pain meds and chose his words more carefully because a part of him understood Bozer's frustration came from a place of helplessness and frustration. It was a place that many loved ones of soldiers knew all too well.

"It's not just memories from Afghanistan this time, man. There's been some missions we've gone on while at Phoenix that are nothing like the ones you've been privy too." Jack held up his hand when he saw the familiar rebuttal coming. "I know you believe that whole incident with Murdoc and you being stabbed earned you some street cred, and it did. You've come a long way, but you have to understand that Mac has been doing this job for years and his experience in combat has allowed him to take on jobs the likes you may never see. And even if it doesn't seem that way now, that's probably a blessing on your part."

"I just want to help him." Bozer slid onto the other stool. Jack nearly smiled at the pouting and slumped shoulders. "I feel like I've been completely useless since this whole thing with his dad, and after Murdoc kidnapped him…"

"I get it, brother." Jack reclaimed his fork, offering the younger man a sympathetic smile. "Half the time I want to lock him up in his lab at Phoenix and make him build scary smart robots and beat your ass at ping pong every day, or maybe send him back to Frankie and MIT where he could roam free with all the other brilliant nerd-kind."

"But you don't-not saying Mac would go for it or that he could actually beat me in ping pong every day," Bozer started, as Jack resumed eating, his eyes not meeting the older man's. "I mean because we both know he wouldn't, beat me that is, but you didn't even back Matty up when she tried to get him to take a vacation after the whole Murdoc thing, nor have you tried to dampen his gung ho, verging on obsessive approach to finding his dad-which for all we know could be a whole lot more devastating than even what Murdoc brings to the table." Bozer's gaze searched Jack's again. "Then you got yourself shot, and now you've been unjustly arrested, beaten to a pulp, and you're in the crosshairs of some lunatic CIA agent."

Jack had a piece of bacon almost to his mouth, but stopped when Bozer abruptly stopped talking and stared at him expectantly. "Did I miss a question in that monologue?"

Bozer rolled his eyes. "I know it's not fair to think you can do something, but can't you- you know, do something?"

"To change Mac?" Jack snorted, chomping on the bacon with a shake of his head. It was a little flattering and a whole lot humbling that Bozer seemed to think Jack had that kind of power over the undeniable force known as Angus MacGyver. Especially when the other man loved to boast he was Mac's best friend every chance he got. "I appreciate the vote of confidence, dude, but what do you suggest I do?"

"I don't know. Maybe something a partner, part big brother slash sometimes dad might do?" Bozer's gestures became more animated, a sure sign the younger man was getting worked up.

"So pull rank, give him a noogie or turn him over my knee?" Jack shoveled another big bite of pancake in his mouth, licking the maple syrup from his fork as Bozer scowled obviously not amused with his suggestions. Jack sighed, unhappy that Bozer seemed hell bent on dulling the bit of good buzz Jack was now feeling from the pain killers. He looked from his mug of tea to the refrigerator, wondering if it would be wise to grab a beer. Deciding he needed to be someone coherent when the rest of their team showed up, he shifted his focus back to Bozer. "Look, dude, as much as I sometimes hate to admit it, Mac is a grown ass man and as much as I'd _like_ to make him do what I thought was best for him, it doesn't work that way. I'm learning that I just have to be there. I don't have to tell you that I'd do anything to protect him."

"Even commit murder?"

"If that's what it takes to keep him alive." Jack shrugged, realizing the round-about question was probably Bozer's way of politely asking him if he was innocent of the charges. The drugs had not only taken the edge off the worse of his hurting, but seemed to lessen the offense he felt at having one of his teammates question him. He didn't feel the need to take Bozer's head off, but he also wasn't about to apologize for protecting the people he loved. He ran a hand over his short hair, meeting Bozer's eyes. "There are some things I regret, Boze. Hell let's be real, I'd change a whole lot of shit if I could, but what I did to Clay Craddock isn't one of them." As an afterthought Jack added, "But you already know that, as you've seen me put in a position that I had to choose one life over another. Mac is always going to be my priority. I'd do anything to keep him safe including choking the life out of a man like Craddock and then bashing in the skull of the sadist sonofabitch traitor for good measure."

Jack realized that the drugs were also making him a bit loose lipped as Bozer's mouth gaped slightly and he seemed at a loss as to what to say. He decided to stuff his face with more pancakes as his young friend digested what was basically Jack's confession. To their newest team member's credit it only took him a few seconds to gather his wits.

"But if this incident with Craddock was in the line of duty, or a way of protecting Mac, then why does Briar think he can force you into finding this notebook he wants? Why is your lawyer worried? I mean if you were acting in self-defense…"

" _If_ I was acting in self-defense, Boze, I would have been satisfied with taking Craddock out of commission, rendering him not a threat until I could transport. The whole strangling with my bare hands and stomping on his face with my size 11 combat boots was a bit of overkill. Believe it or not, the powers that be don't condone excessive force, especially if it's brutal and bloody _and most importantly_ caught on video." Jack reminded Bozer. He understood the younger man had spent much of the last year having his view of the world and even those closest to him deconstructed and rebuilt. He'd had protective blinders cruelly torn away, and in many ways was still reeling from the new view. Despite it all, the guy hadn't shied away, but there were still things that made him antsy and skittish. As much as a part of Jack hoped to let Bozer keep some semblance of innocence, he couldn't let it become something that tripped them up. He placed his elbows on the bar and stared at Bozer, unblinking. "Jail was way too good for Clay Craddock. I wanted him dead for what he'd done. I guess the lovely ex Mrs. General Hammond could make a case for it being an act of self-preservation in the sense that I couldn't imagine drawing another damn breath until that sick bastard had taken his last. It was him or me. I chose me."

"I'm not sure that defense will hold water in court, Jack." Bozer pushed his plate away, and Jack felt bad for ruining his friend's dinner, although the generous supply of Vicodin kept his remorse in check.

He managed a grin, snatching the pieces of perfectly good bacon Bozer had abandoned. "Then I guess we better hope our pal Jerry and his unconventional way of seeing things can help get us a lead on that notebook."

Bozer opened his mouth to respond but was interrupted by his phone as it belted a Bruno Mar's hit. Jack didn't like the man's music but knew he was one of Riley's favorites. With another long glance at Jack Bozer picked up the cell.

"That's Riley. I told her to let me know when they were getting close so I could start on their food, too."

"Go ahead and answer it." Jack glanced over his shoulder, knowing Mac would want to be alert and on his feet when the rest of the team arrived. "I'll go wake sleeping beauty."

Bozer stepped over to the counter again as Jack gingerly slid from the stool. He made his way into the living room which was mostly dark now as the sun was quickly setting and any light from the patio had dimmed. Jack didn't bother with a lamp, working his way around to the front of the couch. Mac had slid down on the sofa, rolling to his side. Even in the minimal light, Jack could see the signs that his partner wasn't exactly resting peacefully. Mac's brow was furrowed, his head moving slightly as his hands twitched, one clenched into a tight fist, his shoulders tensed.

Jack sighed. The new position looked somewhat more comfortable, but it hadn't seemed to help the kid evade the demons he so efficiently kept at bay during his waking hours. The blanket Jack had covered him with lay mostly piled in the floor except for the corner trapped beneath Mac. Jack bent to retrieve it realizing his mistake of leaning over the other man an instant too late. He'd later blame his poor judgment and sluggish reflexes on the Vicodin which had completely kicked in and had put him in a bit of a dazed fog verging a bit on a stupor. Mac startled with the presence looming above him, coming up swinging.

"Damn it," Jack yelped as one of Mac's fists clipped his already aching chin. He tried to move out of the way but the table prevented him from stepping out of reach as the kid had practically sprung to his feet into a defensive stance. Jack would have been a proud teacher if Mac hadn't managed another blow to his ribs. He wasn't sure if his partner had punched him or kicked him, but it felt like whatever was cracked inside might have broken and the fiery, breathtaking pain drove Jack to his knees with a gasp.

"Mac!" Jack hissed, keeping a hand across his midsection as he pushed off the floor and barreled into the kid's legs, landing them both sprawled on the sofa in a tangle of arms and legs. He pinned his partner's arm. "It's me, bud. It's me."

"Jack?" Mac choked, confusion coloring his voice.

"Yeah." Jack rolled off his partner, holding his ribs as he pushed himself up on the couch and reached for the lamp, which he switched on to offer Mac a little more clarity. He tried to breathe through the new pain, squeezing his eyes shut for a second to get on top of his new agony."You with me?"

"What…" Mac was looking around when Jack opened his eyes, as if he was expecting someone else, possibly the person he was clobbering in his nightmare. "What happened?"

"I was an idiot." Jack set his jaw, making an effort to sit up straighter. The shallow breathing and pain made his vision go dark around the edges for a moment. "That's that happened."

"You're bleeding. Again." Mac lifted a hand, gesturing to Jack's face, before rubbing that hand over his eyes. "Shit. Did I hit you?"

"Wouldn't be the first time." Jack swiped a hand over his mouth. The cut over his lip had reopened. "You still swing like a girl."

"Damn it." Mac leaned forward, running both hands through his hair. "What the hell is wrong with me?"

"Dude, this one's on me. I was in your space and…"

"I was having a nightmare." Mac lifted his head and looked at him then. The undeniable anguish in the younger man's unshielded blue gaze hurt almost as much as the blow to his ribs had. It did what the punch hadn't, sobering him instantly. "I'm sorry," Mac said, his eyes growing brighter.

"There's nothing to apologize for," Jack insisted, still a bit breathlessly. He reached out a hand to place on his partner's shoulder giving a slight squeeze. He was the one who who'd joked with Mac after his return from Afghanistan about writing up a disclaimer on the off chance he had an overnight guest. "I forgot my own rules. At the first signs of distress watch the hands and take a step back. Under no circumstances should there be cuddling."

Mac's mouth twitched, though a tiny part of the haunted look in the younger man's eyes remained. "If you were attempting to snuggle with me then I'm thinking you might have deserved the busted lip."

"I was going for the blanket, smart ass." Jack huffed, despite the fact that his partner was even attempting a joke was a good sign. He continued to feign indignation. "Next time, I'll just leave you shivering."

"It's probably the safer strategy." Mac's deep scowl was back, along with a heavy dose of worry. He looked Jack up and down, frowning.

"You want to talk about it?" Jack asked, gently. "Was it Craddock?"

Mac shook his head, and Jack was about to change the subject, knowing pushing would get him nothing but a completely closed off kid when Mac spoke. "I was dreaming about Treaty."

"I know riding isn't exactly you're favorite pastime, kiddo, but…"

"She was being attacked by coyotes." Mac pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. He took a hitched breath that had Jack vacillating between needing to punch someone and wishing he could just pull the kid into a hard hug. "I was riding her through the streets of that little town outside of Kabul, the one with the woman who came running at me and Coop with what we thought was an injured baby…"

Jack winced at the memory, recalling all too easily that the woman's bundle of joy had been anything but, and her would-be suicide mission had been ended by one shot from his sniper rifle.

"I kept trying to kick them off of her," Mac lowered his hands, continuing. His eyes fixed on something in the distance, something only he could see. "But they just kept coming, and they got her down…"

"Dude, Treaty's safe." Jack swallowed hard, hating the way a guy's brain could twist old trauma into brand new fears. He squeezed Mac's shoulder again. "You're safe."

"I know." Mac sighed, giving a slight shake of his head as if he could dispel any lingering images along with the irrational doubt. He focused on Jack, and Jack instantly recognized the walls which were once more solidly in place and that the moment for any deeper discussion about what his partner really feared had passed. "Did I hurt your ribs? Are you sure you're okay? Maybe we should have Sally…"

"Whoa, whoa, now." Jack raised his hand at the suggestion, understanding for the redirection for what it was. "There's no reason to bring in the evil one and her bag of torture instruments. See my earlier note about my sister having a harder swing than you." Jack removed his arm from around his mid-section, hiding the grimace when he scooted to the edge of the couch, so he was shoulder to shoulder with his best friend. "Although, I'm not regretting the good dose of painkillers I had a little bit ago considering I wasn't expecting a wrestling match, even if they have a harder kick than I remember."

"Did you eat anything?" Mac looked over towards the doors to the deck, a hand rubbing thoughtfully over his brow. "What time is it?"

"It's almost six." Jack met the kid's gaze when he looked at him once more, glad he'd at least distracted him from his notion of calling in Phoenix's head nurse. "Bozer made breakfast for dinner. The others are on their way."

"I told Jerry we'd get a video chat going when Riley arrived. He's got some information to share."

"That's good news, right?" Jack raised a brow when Mac didn't seem excited about the prospect of talking to Five-0's computer tech.

"I'm not sure the angle he and Boze have been investigating is exactly something that's going to be helpful." Mac rubbed at his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose before exhaling. "Let's just say it's a bit beyond the parameters I'm comfortable with."

"Maybe that's your headache talking." Jack held back a grin when the younger man glowered at him. "I'll share some of my opioid stash if you want?"

The narrowed gaze spoke volumes. "I think I need to stay completely clearheaded for this meeting, but thanks."

"Suit yourself, but if it's the nightmares you're worried about…"

"I'm not afraid of the dreams." Mac snapped uncharacteristically, giving a heavy sigh when he seemed to realize that he'd protested a bit too much. His gaze held far too much torment and Jack longed to just be done with the whole mess and head to Austin like they'd planned. "I just, I don't need you worrying about me right now, okay. You're the one in trouble and I need to focus on figuring out our next move."

"If you don't want me to worry, then you're going to have to let me know what the hell is going on with you, bud." Jack nudged Mac's knee with his own, searching the kid's gaze. "I get that the timing of this whole thing sucks. We should be with JP in Kentucky, trying to help the old man spot the next great stud to grace The Narrow Path. I know you were looking forward to geeking out over the whole science project on horse genetics that you and Sparky had been working on…"

"He cancelled the trip." Mac looked gutted. "When I called him to tell him something had come up at work and we wouldn't be making it in time for the pilgrimage to the Blue Grass state, he said he'd put it off until after Thanksgiving, make it an early Christmas getaway."

"Damn." Jack ran a hand over his bearded jaw. "I can't remember a time when JP put that trip off. He even made it the year dad died."

"I had to lie to him." Mac licked his lips, guilt mixing with the anguish already in his blue eyes. "When he asked where you were and wanted to talk to you, I told him you had been sent to a conference on new security measures we were implementing at the think tank and that you'd be incommunicado for the duration."

"Considering the truth was that I was cooling my heels in a CIA holding cell being questioned for murder, I'd say you didn't have much choice, kiddo." Jack understood that lying might have been part of their job, but it always sucked when it came to misleading the people you loved. Jack often found it harder to keep his grandfather in the dark. He rested a hand on Mac's shoulder once more. "Besides, you know JP doesn't completely buy our whole cover story. He thinks once a soldier, always a soldier. He'd understand you couldn't compromise the mission."

"He told me to take care of you." Mac glanced away, looking down at his hands. "I promised him I would, that we'd be there for that trip before Christmas."

"I've never know you to break a promise, brother." Jack waited for his partner to meet his gaze once more, giving Mac's shoulder another confident squeeze before removing his touch. "I have no doubt you, me and Sparky will be road trip bound. I for one can't wait for grandpa to see that kickass robot you built."

"The same robot you were sure was going to ignite a Skynet type calamity?" A small grin twitched around Mac's mouth.

"So Sparky's grown on me. We bonded in Vegas." Jack rolled his shoulders, feeling the strain the added pain was causing. "If you haven't noticed I'm evolving, being a little more flexible when it comes to accepting new members into our little family."

"About that." Mac arched a brow. "I'm not sure how you're going to feel about Cage being a part of this mission once you hear the revelation that came from you being taken out of Phoenix by Sutton."

"You mean the part where her handler was Briar and she and Mike bumped uglies after we apprehended Harper Hayes." Jack shook his head at his partner's look of confusion. He held up his hand when Mac's bewilderment shifted to something akin to hurt. "Before you go thinking I held out on you, Briar enjoyed relating the details during one of his inquiries. I was going to bring it up when we were all together just to see the lovely Samantha squirm, but I guess that particular nasty cat is out of the bag. Briar took some pleasure in pointing out that our track record with teammates wasn't exactly something to brag about."

"He's not exactly wrong on that one." Mac raked a hand through his hair in frustration. "First Nikki, then Thornton and now Cage…"

"I'll give him Thornton, and Nikki still isn't clear in my book, especially after she apparently coughed up the video that's got us over a barrel," Jack interrupted, moving his arm back across his ribs when a burning pain tore through him. He smirked when Mac's concerned gaze found his once more. It was always surprising how young the kid looked when he was worried. "But I'm not so sure Cage is on the opposing team. I'm not saying she's an open book, but whatever her motive is, I don't think it's to do us any kind of harm." Jack gave Mac a sly grin. "Although I got to say I now understand why she's turned off most men and prefers the ladies. Sleeping with Briar is bound to do that to a gal. Even my good looks and charm are no match for that kind of bad trip."

Mac laughed, which had been Jack's intention. It didn't exactly erase the lines of exhaustion or take away the all too telling dark circles beneath his eyes, but Jack would take the moment of lightheartedness. "You really are evolving, partner."

"Time in jail will do that to a guy."

Mac snorted. "Let's just hope you won't have an opportunity to explore more growth. I don't think I could handle a completely enlightened Jack Dalton."

"Nah, I know you love me for the loud-mouthed, opinionated knuckle dragger that I am." Jack grinned, as Mac rolled his eyes at the old insult the kid had tossed out sometime around their first meeting. "It's part of the charm that makes Jack Dalton awesome."

"Speaking of awesome," Bozer spoke up from a few feet away. His arms were folded across his chest and he was glaring directly at Jack. "The culinary feast I prepared for Jack Dalton is congealing into a soggy mess as we speak. So if you two don't mind…"

"You heard Chef Boy Har-dee-dee, man." Jack slapped his partner's knee, before making it slowly to standing. "Let's get our chow on," he managed through gritted teeth.

Mac didn't look exactly enthused at the prospect of eating, but Jack was certain his partner understood that declining would only bring on a full-wattage Wilt Bozer mother hen melt down. The man would no doubt add in a Nana Beth worthy dose of guilt along with his own characteristic drama-infused lament about having to play chef for ungrateful consumers. In the long run it would be much easier for Mac to just lap up whatever Bozer put in front him and for once Jack was actually grateful his best friend looked far too wiped to choose the harder path. He sent up a silent thank you for small miracles when Mac stood and joined him. He'd worry about asking the Big Guy for one on the grander scale later if Jerry didn't come through.

To be continued...


	5. Chapter 5

Those We Gather Close

By: Ridley

A/N: This story is about to become a crossover of sorts with Supernatural. I wrote a previous one as a tag called **Brotherhood Code** -where Sam and Dean were the ones to catch Mac's Morse code message to call Jack when he was taken by El Noche. You will need to have read that one or some things will not make sense. With that said the focus will still be on Mac and Jack. I spent years in the Supernatural fandom and have a great love for all things Winchester. Long before The Men of Letters came along on the show, I had written of The Brotherhood. It was an organization of hunters to which Dean and Sam belonged, along with Caleb-who the show killed off quickly but I kept and tweaked. There is no need to read those stories as I think most things will be pretty clear. At least I hope, but I hope my Brotherhood readers will appreciate the little Easter eggs strewn about. Thanks to Mary who helped with this chapter, sorry it was long in the coming and I hope you all are still reading.

RcJ

Having done his part to rig the television for Riley to use during their chat with Jerry, Mac claimed the seat on the couch near Jack. His living space definitely wasn't the War Room but with the delicate nature of what they would be discussing, home was the wiser option for security reasons and for Jack. Mac's partner was putting on a good act, one he'd amped up since Matty and Riley had arrived, but Mac knew him well enough to see through the bravado. Even drugged to the gills, evidence of the pain bled through the well-honed bluff, one Mac had learned early on to call in Afghanistan.

Mac could see it in his partner's unnaturally stiff posture, hear it laced through the unusual tightness of his voice. Jack's accent which often became heavier when he was tired or angry, actually disappeared when he was minding what he said or taking care with how he spoke. It was a classic tell, one that had Mac hyper alert and wishing that they had been granted the time to put everything off until the morning or that he'd just went behind Jack's back and asked Nurse Sally to come over after his and Jack's earlier tete-a-tete.

"The big show is going to go on up there, bud." Jack nudged Mac's boot with his bare foot, lifting one eyebrow as he jutted his chin towards the flat screen where Riley had just about finished up with her rig. "You probably want to point your baby blues that way, or I could move if my awesomeness is distracting you."

"You think you're actually capable of getting up off the couch without making a huge scene?" Mac knew the answer, but couldn't help to smirk as a familiar scowl replaced Jack's cocky grin. "You've been sitting here a while now and we both know it won't be pretty when you actually have to change positions. In fact, it will probably require some heavy lifting on my part. Bozer's, too."

"Then perhaps you should do the merciful thing and stop with the full on puppy dog treatment."

Mac opened his mouth, fully intent on rebuffing Jack's insinuation. So he'd been a little more watchful than usual, and he might have followed Jack to the bathroom earlier, but that precaution was warranted considering Jack had nearly taken a header trying to get off the bar stool after dinner and his actions were nowhere near as hovering as Jack's when Mac was injured. Jack was quick to continue before Mac could get a word out.

"The hyper-vigilance isn't necessary, kid." Jack's voice was lower now, the twang back in full force. Mac wasn't sure if the drop in pretenses was his partner's way of proving his point or if he was just too exhausted to keep the act up any longer. "I'm alright. It's all good. Ol'Jack ain't going anywhere." He shifted slightly, his face paling. "In fact, you're probably going to be stuck with me a while seeing as your earlier point about my inability to move off this damn couch without your scrawny ass helping me is pretty accurate."

"It's not polite to whisper." Matty's growling voice broke in before Mac had the chance to respond to his partner's unexpected candor. He swallowed down all his contradictory worries, knowing he'd unlikely have confessed them to Jack even if he'd had the opportunity and instead flashed their boss an apologetic smile.

"Sorry, Matty. Jack was just saying how nice you looked tonight."

"Shut up. I was not." Jack punched him hard in the shoulder, his jaw clenched tight when his abused ribs obviously protested the movement.

"So you don't think I look nice, Dalton?" Matty inquired, seriously. She propped one hand on her hip, gaze moving from Mac to Jack.

"No- I mean yes." Jack stumbled through and Mac almost felt bad for his best friend as he started to squirm. At least he would have if his arm hadn't been throbbing from where Jack had hit him. "Darlin, I always think you look good. I'm beat to hell, not blind."

"Really?" Matty folded her arms over her chest now, tilting her head just a bit at the forthright profession.

"Especially when you've got that terrifying glint in your eyes." Jack nodded, grinning. "If I'm completely honest, it's pretty damn hot."

"Gross," Riley turned to glare at Jack from her perch on the coffee table. "Children are present."

"Is he high?" Matty looked to Mac, who now found himself the recipient of that certain terrifying glare, one which he found in no way appealing but instead- taking it as he was sure it was always intended-which was completely menacing.

"Yes." He responded, receiving a full on scowl from his partner for the betrayal. "Pain meds. _Lots_ of pain meds."

Mattty shook her head, quickly claiming two of the beers Bozer had just brought from the kitchen, making sure Jack was spared a serving.

"Did I miss something?" Bozer asked a little confused as the drinks were roughly snatched away and Jack growled his disappointment, uttering a few choice words under his breath which Mac understood were meant for him.

"Just Dad hitting on Mom." Riley muttered as she typed furiously on the keyboard. "Be glad you were spared."

"Gross," Bozer echoed her earlier sentiment as he looked from Jack to Matty with a disappointed shake of his head, his gaze finally coming to rest on Mac. "Remember how my parents used to do that during family movie night? They wouldn't let us watch anything remotely scary but then proceeded to traumatize us by canoodling on the couch."

Mac took one of the beers his roommate was still holding, offering him a grin he didn't completely feel. "It's permanently burned in my memory."

"Good thing Cage isn't here," Bozer took the remaining beer and dropped into the recliner. "She'd have more fodder for her comparison of our team to a dysfunctional family unit."

"There's nothing wrong with our team," Jack defended, giving Mac's beer a longing glance. Mac shifted the drink to his other hand just in case his partner got any ideas.

"And Cage is exactly where she needs to be," Matty clarified just as adamantly. "She was the perfect choice to help Ms. Leroux go through any vital information we could relay about the incident in Cairo that might help her with Jack's case, without breaching security." Their director looked to Jack once more. "It's not like I can give a lawyer-no matter how high her connections or clearance-Carte Blanche to our facility. Besides, Cage can offer a unique insight into the CIA and to Briar's MO."

"Well, she's definitely seen a different side of Briar than any of the rest of us." Bozer offered, which earned him matching withering glares from Riley and Matty, but a chuckle from Jack.

"Can we please stop discussing the disturbing and bizarre and focus on this." Riley gestured to the television screen just as Jerry Ortega's face came into view.

Mac flashed Jack a grin at the perfect timing as he at times found Five-0's computer tech a little bizzare and the way his mind worked more than a bit disturbing.

"Hey guys," Jerry waved from his post at Five-0.

"Aloha, my man." Bozer returned the wave. "I like the hair cut."

"Thanks, Bozer." Jerry slid a hand over his shorn head, his trademark long locks having been replaced by a short style. "I thought I'd try something new."

"It works." Jack assured, lifting his hand in greeting as well. "I'm surprised McGarrett didn't suggest a buzz cut."

"He's tried to make it a team mandate but Danny keeps him in check." Jerry's gaze went to Riley and Mac noted the big man's smile widened. "How are you, Artemis?"

"It's just Riley now." Riley shot an uncomfortable glance to Matty, obviously unsure of how Jerry's awe over her mad, legendary hacking skills might be viewed. "My new boss doesn't exactly encourage any strong associations with my past identity."

"This is Matilda Weber." Mac spoke up, sparing Riley anymore explanation. He pointed to their director. "Matty, this is Jerry Ortega. Special Consultant for Five-0. He really helped us out of a jam last year."

"It's nice to meet you, Jerry. I appreciate your willingness to help us once more in this little matter." Matty's brief smile faded. "I trust that you understand the necessity to keep a tight lid on anything we might discuss. This is all of a very sensitive nature to say the least."

"Top secret spy stuff, I got it." Something akin to excitement twinkled in Jerry's eyes.

"I was thinking more along the lines of an exchange of ideas between a task force member with certain knowledge and skills and the employees of a think tank needing assistance." Matty reframed gruffly. "Or even better a catch-up session with old friends."

"Okay." Jerry nodded, looking from Matty to Mac as if he was unsure of how to proceed.

"You said you'd had an update about your source, codenamed Dr. Jones?" Mac decided to help their friend out. "In your email you mentioned he might be willing to arrange a meeting of some sort."

"I'm not sure willing is the right word," Jerry's face became animated once more. "I got the impression he wasn't happy that someone else was searching for information about the notebook and the sword."

"Just to clarify, we're not interested in the sword." Mac shot Bozer a raised brow, knowing full well his roommate had gotten caught up in the mystery that apparently came along with General Patton's alleged journal.

"I understand that but it seems the two sort of go hand in hand." Jerry's eyes moved from Bozer to Mac, almost apologetic in tone as if he hadn't heard the admonishment before.

Matty stepped closer to the screen, striking a posture Mac had witnessed often in the War Room. "I'm not sure I understand how a document supposedly containing valuable intelligence about our present day government is linked to some sword that General George Patton created in the early 1900's."

"It was actually a M1913 Calvary Saber," Jack inserted only to receive one of the looks from Matty that he claimed to find titillating. Mac wanted to tell his partner that maybe his love and knowledge of swords should maybe be shifted to the backburner. "He was famous for carrying it and a single action Colt .45." Jack sat up higher, one arm pressed again tightly around his middle. "The General was pretty bad ass."

"As I was saying," Matty continued, her focus once more going to Jerry's face on the screen before them. "I think we should stick to information that might actually aid us in Jack's case."

"Dr. Jones' interest in the sword is the only thing that had him responding to me about Patton's Notebook. I know there's been some confusion about whether it's the same one that is at the center of what you all are dealing with but at this point it's all that I've been able to come up with that makes any sense."

"Why would Dr. Jones be interested in a hundred year old sword?" Riley asked, frowning. "The guy is like a ghost, basically a myth."

"Funny you should say that, Arte…I mean, Riley." Jerry's hand moved across the computer table before him and the screen they were seeing suddenly split. It now revealed a strange symbol of three interlocking circles with unusual items contained in each band. "After being contacted by Dr. Jones about a possible meet-up I received this from someone I believe may be an associate of his."

"And that is?" Matty asked, crossing her arms once again over her chest. "Someone's odd family crest?"

"Believe it or not this is the symbol for a very secretive society, and not the kind sanctioned by the government. Think Free Masons or even better Knights of the Round Table. They deal with what could be considered shall we say out of the realm of typical societal constraints." The twinkle in Jerry's eyes reappeared full force.

"And what does that mean exactly?" Mac asked, not really convinced that anything Jerry was presenting could help them get Jack out of the line of fire. He really hoped Jerry's hard work wasn't a waste of his and their time as well as a dead end.

"They deal in the supernatural," It was Bozer who responded. He offered a quick shrug when both Mac and Matty turned to give him matching frowns. "What?" Bozer pointed to Jerry. "He's the one who said it. I'm just translating." Mac could see the matching gleam of anticipation which Jerry had presented earlier.

"He's not wrong." Jerry admitted slowly. "Supposedly this group tends to hunt and collect items that have less than typical origins. Objects that have myths or legends told about them, ones that if they landed in the wrong hands could supposedly be used to cause a lot of destruction."

"Wait, Jerry. Are you talking about The Brotherhood?" Riley asked, the frown on her face deepening.

All eyes went to her and none of them seemed more surprised than Jerry, who now was favoring their computer tech with a look akin to worship. "I knew you were quite possibly my soul mate, but now I'm convinced you should be the mother of my unborn children."

"Hey now," Jack spoke up, sitting straighter on the couch, though Mac could easily see the effort it took for Jack to act normal. He jerked a thumb towards his chest. "Pseudo-parent in the room, dude. No mention of making babies, please."

"Sorry," Jerry cleared his throat, his face taking on the color of the bright red flowers mingled in his Hawaiian print shirt. "I didn't mean to say that out loud."

"Who or should I say 'what' is The Brotherhood?" Mac asked to get everyone back on the same page. "And more importantly what do they have to do with Patton's Notebook?"

"It's like Jerry said," Riley continued. "They're an ultra-secretive society, which means what's known about them is shadowy at best. We're talking beyond super spy stuff. They don't exactly put out a bulletin or recruiting posters. It's been my experience that if you do something to draw their attention it's not usually a good thing."

"You've actually had contact with them?" Matty's skeptical gaze stayed on Riley. "Don't tell me they tried to recruit you as a hacker?"

"No." Riley shook her head adamantly. "I have a feeling they're a bit more hands on and at the time I met them, I was just a kid. It was more than ten years ago, but let's just say they left a lasting impression."

"Let me guess," Jack offered, scooting to the edge of the couch with a pained grimace. Mac noted the way his partner's arm stayed tucked around his mid-section, the strained quality of his voice. "Elwood took something that didn't belong to him and you got caught up in the fallout?"

"Something like that." Riley's mouth turned up slightly at the corners. Mac knew she was still on tentative footing in the new relationship with her dad. He understood her caution all too well, but was also proud of her for giving the man another chance. Mac hoped he might be as brave when and if he got the chance with his own father and that Jack went along as well as he had with Riley's decision.

"I think I was maybe twelve," She continued, not really looking at anybody as if she had caught a glimpse into the past. "And it was one of those spur of the moment things when my mom really needed my dad to come through. She was going to a training for work and he showed up bragging his latest job had been especially lucrative. He promised he'd take me on an adventure-a real daddy daughter vacation of a lifetime. Disneyworld to be exact. It was an adventure alright." Riley cleared her throat, her fingers brushing over the laptop case. "We made it to somewhere right outside Atlanta when two very serious men with guns showed up at our hotel room in the middle of the night asking for some box that Elwood had apparently obtained during his latest windfall."

"I wish that surprised me," Jack sighed. Mac recognized the guilt that settled on his partner's face, deepening the lines of weariness and pain that were already present.

"It wasn't as scary as it sounds," Riley rushed on to explain, apparently picking up on the same emotions from Jack. The man seemed to take everything Riley and Mac suffered as children as his own personal baggage. Mac could understand Riley in part as Jack still blamed himself for walking away when Riley was a kid. He hadn't met Mac until Mac was nineteen, but had been dogged about not dodging the uncanny responsibility for and allegiance to a kid he didn't owe anything. Mac sometimes felt bad that he benefited from what Jack obviously saw as the mistake he made with Riley and had apparently vowed never to repeat.

"These men weren't thugs or gangsters like Elwood often attracted. They were actually pretty nice," she said with a genuine smile. "They didn't even ask about the other things my dad had taken only the jewelry box that they knew he'd tried unsuccessfully to pawn along with the other items he'd scored." She tucked a strand of hair that had escaped her messy pony tail behind her ear. "They told him it was dangerous and that it would bring a lot worse to our door than them."

"Although highly entertaining and a bit like the premise of one of Bozer's sci-fi movies, I'm still not seeing how this relates to the missing list of rogue agents that Briar expects us to find." Matty sighed, her impatience matching Mac's own.

"Unless it never was a missing list of agents." Mac surprised himself with the proposition. He wasn't one to embrace the mystical or fantastical, but there was something about the way Briar had looked at him when he'd mentioned the list back at the CIA building. It was more than smug superiority. Briar seemed genuinely surprised that Mac was one step behind. "What if Patton's Notebook was never a codename for a list of rogue agents, but actually the general's journal? What if like Riley's dad our alleged informant took something that he had no idea would land him in such hot water, and it got him killed and Briar somehow found out what it was and decided it might be useful."

"But what would Briar want with a book belonging to a dead general, bud?" Jack shook his head, his face growing paler. "Trust me when I say Mike isn't one to be motivated by much except for a giant payoff."

"Then that could be your answer." Jerry drew their attention back to the screen. "When I said that Patton's Notebook generated hits on the dark web, I wasn't talking about a few. There's a whole site dedicated to items of supernatural interest and people are willing to pay huge amounts of money to claim them."

"Like Arc of the Covenant type stuff?" Bozer asked and Mac could tell, his friend was almost bouncing with eagerness.

"Sure." Jerry nodded, once more matching Bozer's excitement. "Religious artifacts are especially touted. Like the Holy Grail and St. Peter's sword he used in the garden of Gethsemane."

"So I could go on there and look for Joyeuse or Goujian?" Jack asked, rubbing his hands. Mac rolled his eyes at his partner's infatuations with swords and the fact he was being drawn into the Jerry's preposterous ideas. Jack had quite a collection and was fascinated by any that had a grand legend attached like Goujian which apparently defied time or Joyeuse which supposedly changed colors, shone brighter than the sun and gave its wielder the advantage of constant shadow. "Maybe even The Kusanagi or better yet, Excalibur?"

"If you had millions of dollars, sure." Jerry shrugged as if the speculations of magical weapons weren't crazy enough but that people actually might have the ability to provide them to wealthy collectors. Before Mac could suggest as much, Matty interrupted.

"I have no idea what a Joyeuse or a Goujian are Jack," their director snapped. "But I do happen to know what your salary is and we both understand you'd be lucky to track down a rubber sword used by Johnny Depp's stunt double from the Pirates of the Caribbean movie." Matty once more levelled her 'cut the crap' face on Jack. "Can we please leave fantasy land and move back into the real world?"

"Those sites are real world, Matty," Riley defended, seriously. "Why do you think there are watchdogs out there? The FBI alone has several divisions that I know of devoted to the dark web. People are willing to do crazy stuff to get their hands on some strange items."

"Jerry, did you uncover any particular legend on Patton's sword that might make it an item of interest?" Mac asked the only thing that made sense at this point. His mind was still reeling with all the cloak and dagger stuff.

"I wasn't going to mention it after Bozer said you wanted us to stick solely with the notebook, but Patton's sword is highly revered in collector's circles."

Mac glanced to Jack, who shrugged. "Don't look at me, kiddo. I had a Calvary sword, but gave it to JP as a birthday present several years ago. As far as I know besides having a refined design, the old horse soldier sword is nothing fancy and I sure didn't pay anywhere the kind of cash Jerry's talking."

"It's not the sword he designed for the Army," Jerry hedged, his hand sliding over the screen once more to bring up another picture. This image was one of a saber, with a basket-shaped hilt mounting, a double-edged thrusting blade. "It's the one he forged for himself. One that purportedly was created from an ore like no other, some type of silver. The hilt was carved with glyphs." Jerry pointed to the odd symbols on the steel grip and then to the obverse ricasso that usually held the U.S. stamp and an eagle head. Instead, it shown with the three interlocking circles that Jerry had shown them earlier. "And as you can see this was not standard Army use."

"It's The Brotherhood symbol." Bozer scooted forward. "You're saying that Patton was a member of their group?"

"I'm saying that legend has it a lot of men of power have been linked to their group." Jerry folded his arms over his chest. "Including a couple of dead presidents."

"What happened to the sword after Patton died?" Jack asked, shifting again on the couch as if to find a more comfortable position.

"It was supposedly buried with him in Luxembourg after he died from injuries sustained in a car crash, but a lot of people believe it was taken shortly after when his resting place was looted. History has it that his grave was moved because of all the visitors stampeding in to pay their respects but what I uncovered suggests that the truth was Germany and the American Battle Monuments came to blows when they found out that not only had the good General's grave been looted but that his body had been burned."

"Again," Matty sighed heavily. "Although highly interesting, it's not something that seems like a viable lead to take us to the journal-whether it's a list or a diary belonging to the dead general."

"That's because I haven't told you what was in the message I received from The Brotherhood." A grin lit up Jerry's face.

"Don't keep us waiting, pal." Jack waved a hand at Jerry. "Some of us are on a time line here."

"Sorry." Jerry apologized, reddening again. "I'll show you."

Mac watched the screen as the photo of the sword was replaced by an email containing three strings of numbers and nothing else. The first two lines leaped out at him instantly, but Jack spoke before he had the chance.

"Those are co-ordinates." Jack glanced at Mac. "34.1495 and 90.0490," He read them slowly and Mac could almost see his partner's wheels turning. "Right off the top of my head, I'm guessing that's somewhere in the south."

"You're right," Jerry's voice held a hint of the awe he'd had for Riley's computer skills. "I already looked it up. It's just outside of Memphis, Tennessee."

"What about the last one?" Bozer asked of the string of eight numbers at the bottom. "The eleven and 2017 could be a date seeing as how it's November but I'm not getting where the last two zeroes fit."

"The eleven and a twenty are the date, Boze" Mac told him. "The 1700 is a time."

"Military time." Jack nodded in agreement. "They're setting a meet for tomorrow night at 5:00 PM."

"Did you try and track the origin?" Riley asked Jerry, still studying the email.

Jerry's sigh was heavy. "I tried and even had a particularly talented CI of ours who is a way better hacker than me give it a go. He said NASA had less security measures in place, but guessed the original message came from a burner phone, rerouted through countless servers." Jerry ran a hand over his short hair."He did say he'd love to meet the guy who was behind their network because he'd like to offer his services, once he's out of prison that is."

"Like Riley said, I highly doubt these men recruit from outside their own ranks," Jack offered, pinching the bridge of his nose, the lines of pain around his eyes growing deeper. "You don't remain an ultra secretive group without being extremely careful about who you bring into your fold."

Mac watched his best friend, thinking about their own agency, their team, the mistakes and breaches they had allowed. He wondered if Jack was thinking of Nikki and Thornton, maybe even Cage, or if he was recalling a misstep he'd taken long ago by trusting Briar and Craddock.

"If we want to find out who they are, and what they might have to offer us, we'll just have to do it the old fashioned way," Jack rubbed his eyes, giving his head a slight shake. Mac didn't miss the wince that told the pain meds were probably wearing off and that his partner was running on fumes. "We'll have to have a face to face."

"I'll arrange for the plane and a car, although I'm not going to use our typical channels in case Briar has his dirty little fingers in our pie. You can probably still be wheels up in the morning..." Matty hesitated as her gaze went from Mac to Jack. "That is if you're up to the trip."

Mac wasn't surprised when Jack quickly dropped his hand, a grin replacing the grimace from a moment before. "The only thing you need to worry your pretty head about, Matilda, is getting us a vehicle that doesn't fall in the soccer mom category."

Mac hid his grin as their director's momentary look of concern quickly gave way to the much more familiar one of irritation on the verge of outright disdain. "You'll drive whatever I pick for you, Dalton and considering your and baby Einstein's track record with rentals, you'll be lucky if it's not a bicycle built for two."

"It's not my fault the kid likes to pull our wheels into his wacky improvisations." Jack shook his head, taking careful, shallow breaths. "You should see what my boy used to do to birds back in the Sandbox. You think you have it bad reporting to Oversight. I used to have to report to General Perseus Hammond every time the kid tinkered with an Apache, Chinook or took apart a Bradley. I still owe the Army my pension. Hell, five times my pension for some of the things he destroyed."

Mac was about to speak up for himself, but honestly couldn't rebut much of what his partner was claiming without outright lying so he was more than grateful when Jerry beat him to the punch.

"I could always catch a plane stateside and meet you all there in case you need my expertise." Five-O's consultant barely constrained himself, his suggestion brimming with hopefulness.

"No." Matty turned to the screen her confrontation with Jack momentarily forgotten. "We appreciate all you've done, Jerry, but we better take it from here on out. This is officially Phoenix business."

"Matty's right, pal. The last thing I need to do is piss off the water baby who thinks he runs your island," Jack nodded to the screen, giving Ortega an affable grin when the other man's shoulders sagged with disappointment. "I wouldn't want to make McGarrett cry like a kid who's had his favorite sand toy snatched by the bigger, badder boy on the beach, but maybe Riley could keep you in the loop-check in with you every now and then."

Mac wasn't surprised when Jerry's face lit up like a dog being tossed an especially juicy soup bone. Riley, however, turned to give Jack a full on glower at being offered as a consolation prize but didn't sputter the indignant 'how could you' that he could see her trying to transmit with her intense dark gaze.

"She can call me anytime she needs to." Jerry assured quickly. "Should I respond to this message or…"

"I doubt that they'll be waiting on an RSVP, Jerry." Mac replied. He got the impression that The Brotherhood didn't extend such courtesy to those who were sniffing around their affairs. It could be that they wanted to draw out any proposed threat into the open, doing away with the anonymity of a computer screen when it suited their purposes or action was demanded like with Riley and Elwood. Mac glanced at Jack, wondering the same thing Matty had been thinking earlier about his partner's ability to handle a hostile face to face if it came to such. "I'm not sure it's the kind of invitation one has the option of turning down."

"So, I'll just lay low then." Jerry nodded, seeming to get what Mac was saying.

"Next Spam dog is on me," Bozer assured, waving to his friend.

"Mahalo, Brah." Jerry said, just as Riley cut the connection.

She turned to the others. "So what now?"

"Now you and I are headed back to Phoenix where I want you to dig up anything you can on this Brotherhood." Matty replied, gathering her leather coat from the chair. "Super secretive or not, I'd feel better about sending my agents into a situation if we could at least have some idea of who we're dealing with."

"I can try, but I'm not sure I'll find much more than what Jerry uncovered." Riley stood as well, picking up her things, her gaze briefly going back to Jack.

"So, no one's going to help me clean up the kitchen after that fabulous meal I prepared for you all?" Bozer protested theatrically.

Matty gave one of her patented frowns. "No, but I will suggest you get on it and get some sleep, because your flight will be leaving early in the morning."

"I'm going?" Bozer was as surprised as Mac.

"Matty…" Jack started only to have their director lift a finger in a signal for him to stop speaking.

"Bozer is going because I'm not sure how much we can rely on long-distance communication at this point without it being monitored. I'd send Cage but considering her connection with Briar I also don't want to risk any more misunderstandings." Matty returned her focus to Bozer. "You are to be eyes and ears on the ground, our own living, breathing surveillance. You and Riley can work on some burner phones and a closed radio that will be difficult to trace and before you even ask, no, you cannot carry a gun."

"Yes, mam." Bozer stood, no longer seemingly upset about prospect of cleaning up, instead bouncing with eagerness once more. "I won't let you down, Matty."

"See that you don't because it's not like this is exactly a sanctioned mission. Explaining the deaths of three agents would put me in an awkward position to say the least."

"Is that supposed to be my pep talk?" Bozer frowned, losing a bit of his enthusiasm.

"Do I look like a junior high football coach to you, Bozer?"

"Uh…No?" Bozer said, looking very unsure if he had spoken correctly. Jack snorted, earning himself twin glowers. Mac took pity on him and stood as well.

"I'll see you out, Matty." Mac ignored the surprised and somewhat suspicious look his partner shot him, and waved an arm towards the front of the house for his boss to precede him.

"Would it help with your clean up if we took some leftovers off your hands for the office?" Riley asked Bozer. "I have a feeling it's going to be a long night."

"It couldn't hurt."

Mac heard Bozer respond as well as Jack ordering Riley to leave him some bacon.

"Nice manners, blondie," Mattie interrupted Mac's eavesdropping. "But since when do you escort anyone in or out of Casa MacGyver?" She asked once they were out of earshot, raising an eyebrow in question.

"Since I'm not sure we're doing the right thing by heading off to Tennessee." Mac hesitated at the door, meeting Matty's gaze before reaching for the knob.

"And is this uncharacteristic caution got to do with Bozer going along or your partner not being benched seeing as how he's on the injured list."

"A little bit of one, a whole lot of the other." Mac answered honestly, turning to face his boss instead of giving her an exit.

"We both know Bozer's earned his right to be in the field more. You're going to have to take a page out of Jack's book and bite the bullet when it comes to letting the baby chicks leave the nest. And you better than anyone understand that nothing short of a holding cell is going to sideline Dalton if he thinks his favorite little bird is being sent in the game without him."

Mac frowned, knowing Matty was right but hating it anyway. "He's hurt more than he's letting on."

"What else is new?" Matty rolled her eyes, but then softened when Mac cast a glance over his shoulder before meeting her gaze once more. "It's his neck on the line this time, Mac. As much as I might want to protect him in this whole Craddock mess, I won't be able to do anything. Neither will Phoenix. Neither will General Hammond and neither will you. It's not like Jack didn't do what they are accusing him of and we both know it."

"There were extenuating circumstances and it wasn't as cold and calculating as Mike Briar is trying to paint it," Mac started sharply only to have Matty reach out and grip his arm.

"I know that." Matty squeezed Mac's wrist and Mac tried to remember if she had ever initiated any kind of physical contact. Instead of invoking comfort, which he imagined was her intention, it increased his worry over the gravity of the situation, making his heart beat faster. "More importantly," she continued, quickly removing her touch. "I know Jack. I'm on his side. Which is why right now I believe following Briar's play book is the best shot we've got at getting either the evidence that will clear Jack or let Mike somehow implicate himself in the whole mess or offer us another sort of leverage."

"Have you had any luck in tracking down Nikki?" Mac took a deep breath, raking a hand through his hair. "I still don't understand why she'd give Mike Briar that tape, or even why she still had it."

"Nikki seems to be a woman who keeps her cards close to her vest. She's apparently off the radar and has been out of rotation for the CIA since the whole thing with Thornton." Mac got the distinct impression Matty was being selective in what she told him. He wanted to trust her. He'd come to care about her, but he had to remind himself they worked in a world where very few people could be counted on to be completely on the level-even ones that you loved could have secrets and agendas of their own. "Maybe she's deep cover again."

"I haven't talked to her since Thornton was arrested either." Mac said, just as Riley appeared.

"Talked to who?" Riley lifted a brow, looking from Matty to Mac.

"Nikki."

"That's probably because Jack suggested she lose your number. Permanently. " Riley handed Mac the bag of leftovers so she could slide into her leather jacket.

"No he didn't." Mac responded instantly earning him another eye roll from both women this time.

Riley pulled her hair from beneath the collar, giving it a shake as she offered Mac an accompanying frown. "Like that really surprises you? Surely you suspected. I mean this is _Jack_ , the man who kidnapped my father and held him hostage after he promised he wouldn't get involved and would let me handle things on my own." She fiddled with her collar, giving Mac a long look. "Elwood just sucked at being my dad. Nikki was the woman responsible for you nearly dying, and letting you suffer for months by pretending to be dead. I think the three of us knowing Jack the way we do can agree that she's lucky she didn't end up with a sniper's bullet between her poorly waxed brows, wrapped in plastic, and anchored at the bottom of Lake Como."

"Jack cared about Nikki." Mac pointed out even as he admitted, if only to himself, that he'd somehow known Jack was responsible for him having never heard from his ex-girlfriend after their complicated reunion. He wasn't sure if he was more annoyed that Jack had done what he did or that Riley knew about it and didn't tell him.

"Not as much as he cares about you." Riley gave a slight, sympathetic grin as she zipped her coat. "Besides weren't he and Craddock friends at one time, too?"

"Craddock shot and tortured me." Mac sighed, knowing he'd just made Riley's point for her when her grin became a bit more wolfish and she raised her own perfectly defined brow.

"Nikki and Craddock definitely sound like they are cut from the same cloth. And now that we know Nikki turned that tape over to Briar, she has more than just Jack being pissed at her to worry about." Riley's gaze became hard.

"Okay, as cute as this sibling dynamic you two have going on at the moment is, I think it's time we all got to work on the tasks at hand, which for you, young lady, is not hatching revenge plots but instead focusing on finding out as much about The Brotherhood as possible." Matty gestured for Mac to move from in front of the door.

"I'm on it," Riley assured, stepping alongside Mac to reclaim her leftovers. She took the Tupperware containers and then surprised him by coming in for a quick hug. "Keep an eye on our old man. He's not as tough as he thinks he is." Her words were hushed against his ear.

"I will." Mac held Riley's gaze for a moment before opening the door for both her and Matty.

"I'll be in touch with flight arrangements in the next hour or so." Matty gave Mac one more nod. "Leave Nikki Carpenter and any other CIA operators to me," she added as she stepped over the threshold and started for her car.

Riley cleared her throat. "I'll get those burner phones and the three way radio mikes set up for Bozer before the morning." She hesitated before following their director, giving Mac another glance. Something akin to despair reflected in her eyes. "We can't let him go to jail, Mac. You get that, right?"

Mac swallowed hard, watching the emotions stir in her dark gaze. He understood exactly what she meant. He'd only spent a week behind bars, and still marveled that Riley had survived much longer in such a place. Jack was not the kind of man that could live caged.

"I promise that no matter what happens with Briar, Jack won't go to jail." His answer seemed to satisfy her, and Riley gave a half smile before turning to catch up with Matty. Mac pondered all the ways he could prove good on his word as he closed the door, locking it before making his way past the kitchen where Bozer was busy washing the dishes, headphones on and softly singing along.

Finding the couch empty gave him a momentary stab of panic but one look towards the open deck doors had Mac shaking his head at his partner's dogged determination and making his own way outside. Jack was standing at the far end leaned against the rails overlooking the city. The night was clear and his partner's voice although low travelled clearly to Mac as he made his way closer.

"I'll try my best, grandpa." Jack laughed lightly, though Mac could easily pick up the strain his partner's voice as well as the slow drawl that told of his weariness and the fact his guard was down. "Yeah, well, you know how he is."

The amused look Jack gave him when Mac moved to his side told him he was the one being talked about. He glanced away, figuring that whatever Jack and JP were discussing was probably something he'd have little luck denying. It didn't take but a moment more and Jack was saying his goodbyes to his grandfather, promising that he and Mac would see him and Beth soon.

"Should you have told them we would be there for Thanksgiving?" Mac turned once his partner had ended the call, hoisting himself up onto the top rail

"You'd rather I told him I might be spending the holidays in lock up?"

"I'd rather none of this were happening."

"Well, if wishes were horses, bud, we'd need a ranch bigger than the Narrow Path to house them all." Jack sighed heavily, slipping the phone back into his pocket with a yawn.

"Not really." Mac gripped the rail, glancing up at the star-filled sky. "My list is pretty short at this point."

"I hope you know that just because we've gotten a bit sidetracked, I haven't forgotten my promise to help you find your dad." Jack sounded determined, even if his words slurred a bit.

"I can honestly say that's the last thing on my mind, Jack." It wasn't exactly true. Mac had been thinking about this quest to find his father, but not in the way one might think. Since Jack's arrest, he'd been considering the amount of energy he'd been investing in a man who'd done nothing but run away from him. It made him wonder at his motives in pursuing a person who seemed to have had little interest in every playing the role of his father.

"You can't give up now." Jack turned, his breath hitching as he twisted quicker than his body must have been ready for, one of his hands reach for the rail in a white-knuckled grip. "It's even more important we know where your dad is…just in case this thing with Craddock goes really badly."

"What has my dad got to do with any of this?" Mac's answer was easily found in his partner's hesitation. Jack looked unsure of how to answer, even though it was quite clear he'd spent a good deal of time pondering the very thing he was considering withholding. Mac hopped off the rail, facing his partner. "Jack?"

Jack rubbed a hand over his eyes. "Well, the way I see it, if I go down for this wrap, then I need to know there's someone looking out for you."

"And you think James MacGyver is the person for the job?" Mac felt the first inkling of anger bubble from deep inside. The idea that Jack was looking for some kind of replacement to fill his position in Mac's life was enough to set off alarm bells, but that he was considering the man that had left Mac high and dry when he was ten and never looked back spoke to the desperation he must feel.

"I admit I have some doubts, but if Elwood Davis can get a damn clue late in the game then I'm thinking your daddy-obviously being a few notches higher on the old IQ scale-can possibly surprise me." Jack took a shallow breath, closing his eyes for a moment. Mac had to resist reaching out to grip his partner's arm when the older agent swayed slightly. Jack steadied himself. "Besides, it's not exactly like I can be picky at this point."

"I'm not looking for a new partner." Mac made an effort to keep his voice neutral, as if they were merely discussing something as mundane as the weather. No one could replace Jack, or fill his shoes. Not even James MacGyver. Just as Jack was never some mere substitute for a father, Mac's dad could never begin to replace the family Mac had been lucky enough to find in his best friend. He picked at a loose sliver of wood on the top rail, avoiding Jack's gaze. "I'm not even searching for a parent, not in the means that I might have needed when I was ten anyway."

"I'm not abdicating my position, brother." Jack spoke, quickly. His voice not nearly as neutral as Mac's. It was laced with physical pain, but emotion thickened the words like they did when Jack indulged in one too many beers. "I'm sure as hell not abandoning my post. I won't leave you high and dry no matter how this plays out, and if I do have to go, you'll know where I'll be, always, or at least a general area, so you won't be compromised or complicit."

"So you're going to run?" Mac's heart kicked into high gear at the thought. His father had disappeared without a word, without any trace and the more Mac learned, he was beginning to suspect the man had very good reasons to go into hiding.

"Let's just hope it doesn't come to that." Jack attempted to force a smile, his avoidance of a straight forward answer sending another spike of panic through Mac. "I'm rather hoping we have this secret journal in the next forty-eight hours and you and me are in Austin fighting with JP over the last piece of turkey breast when Thanksgiving Day rolls around."

"This Brotherhood thing could be a complete hoax." Mac offered in light of saying what he was truly thinking. That he couldn't even begin to entertain the thought of Jack leaving, the idea that he might find his father, only to lose the person who'd been some odd mix of older brother and parent since Mac was nineteen. It was some kind of cruel trick of fate.

"Or it could be the break we're looking for." Jack braced a hand around his mid-section, taking a controlled breath, his other hand tightening its grip around the rail as if he were having a hard time maintaining an upright position. "I just hope they're as cordial and accommodating as Riley remembers."

"Because men who go to great lengths to hide their identity and perform their work in complete anonymity while using force as a means of gaining cooperation are usually on the right side of the law." Mac's words sounded sharper than he intended them to be.

"Careful there, partner. You pretty much described us in a nutshell." Jack winked. "And I know for a fact we wear the white hats. Maybe these boys are the same."

"I hope you're right." Mac wanted it to be true for numerous reasons, but none more than the fact he could see what bad shape his partner was in. Even in the poor lighting, Mac could make out the light sheen of sweat on Jack's brow. The knot in his stomach twisted and he favored Jack with a frown. "You aren't in any condition to take on a Girl Scout troupe let alone a militia of supernatural soldiers."

"I'll have you know I'm pretty sure I could take a punch from a twelve year old girl right now and still stay on my feet." Jack's grin this time was real but so was the open pain Mac could make out in the dim light.

Mac cocked a brow, fighting to keep his mouth from quirking. "I'm pretty sure a good Santa Ana wind could pick up right about now and put you on your ass."

"That might be true." Jack surprised him with the admittance. He took a quick inhale of breath, looking for all intents and purposes as if he might prove Mac's suggestion true without even the hint of a breeze. "Which is why maybe you could help your partner back to the couch."

"Not the couch." Mac gave an emphatic shake of his head, taking one of Jack's arms and pulling it over his shoulders. Jack didn't protest the assist and despite it not being that cold outside Mac could still feel tremors running through his partner. "Guest room. Even better, you can have my bed and I'll take the futon."

"The guest room would have been fine, man." Jack protested as Mac eased him onto the edge of his bed and stepped away to turn on the lamp closest to them.

"You're the one who complains about the futon mattress being created by a group of chiropractors scheming for new future clients." Mac pointed out as he turned down the blankets and pulled the spare pillow from the chair and tossed it on top of the one already there.

"It's not like I'm going to get any Z's as it is." Jack eased himself back, wincing as he brought his feet up off the floor. He looked up at Mac, barely able to hold his eyes open despite his protests he wouldn't be able to sleep. "I'm just going to rest for a few minutes then I need to make some phone calls. Check in with Hammond and his wife, the surprise solicitor."

"Mel's French, not British, Jack." Mac didn't even bother with pointing out the late time or the fact that he'd already talked to the general. He had a feeling his partner would soon be out for the count and Mac would not be waking him up until Matty gave them the exact time and place where they needed to meet.

"She seems to have it together though, right?" Jack cocked a brow as Mac nonchalantly pulled the blanket from the bottom of the bed and brought it up over his friend. He didn't miss the irony in that their roles were suddenly reversed. It was often Jack playing nursemaid, and Mac could admit he was much more comfortable on the receiving end of care even though he often complained about his partner's tendency to hover. It was hard to see Jack as anything besides completely invincible.

"She does." Mac nodded, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. He met Jack's gaze. "I'm guessing Hammond thinks she's the best or he wouldn't have asked her to help you. It sounds like he had to be desperate to reach out to her."

"They had a kid you know."

Mac arched a brow. "Really?"

"A son." Jack nodded, letting out a heavy breath. He brought a hand up to rub his eyes. "He died. Drug overdose, I think."

"That's terrible."

"Losing a kid has to be the worst thing possible." Jack seemed to be struggling for focus but he met Mac's gaze, his voice low and rough, each word thick and slow like molasses dripping from one of Nana Beth's Mason jars. "I'd rather rot in jail or live on the lamb for the rest of my days than to know what that pain."

Mac opened his mouth, quick to point out that they both knew that losing a parent wasn't a walk in the park either, that losing a brother could just as easily wreck a person. Jack cut him off by reaching out and gripping his wrist.

"I don't regret what I did to Clay Craddock. Not for a second. When I dream about it, the part where I end him isn't the nightmare." Mac looked at him and Jack gave a little nod obviously reading the mix of confusion and self-imposed guilt in his narrowed blue gaze. "Even after all this, I'd do it again, bud. The only regret is I didn't get a chance to do it sooner…before he hurt you. Keeping you safe from him is the one change I'd make."

Mac glanced down, eyes glued to Jack's hand that was still wrapped around his wrist. He closed his eyes for a second, trying to gather his thoughts and fight back the swell of emotions that thinking about Cairo and Craddock always brought. When he'd gathered his strength and shoved old memories and fears back into their cages where they belonged, he glanced up again to tell Jack that he was going to fix this. If it was the last thing he did, he was going to make sure Jack never paid for doing what he always did, which was put Mac first.

Only Jack's eyes were closed, his breath even in sleep.

Mac wasn't sure if he should be relieved or disappointed he was denied his moment of truth. He gently tugged his hand free, swallowing down his declaration and all the emotions that seemed to settle in his throat like a steel pipe. His partner's grip laxly fell away and Mac tucked it beneath the blanket before leaning over to turn off the lamp. He stood, giving Jack's sleeping form one more glance. Mac noted each and every bruise and cut that the darkness and the three day's growth of beard failed to hide. Patton's Notebook and The Brotherhood might have brought unique and unusual facets to the daunting task they were undertaking, but despite not knowing what or who exactly they were dealing with, Mac understood all too well what it meant to _have_ a brother you'd do anything to save. In his mind, that would always give him the upper hand, trumping any challenge that came his way.


	6. Chapter 6

Those We Gather Close

By: Ridley

A/N: So, this was a bit harder than I imagined. But I don't want to back down from the challenge of finishing this piece, so if you are completely lost, please feel free to tell me and if you have any suggestions as how to make this crossover a bit easier, let me know. I hope it is still enjoyable! Thanks to Mary who made this so much better and in the midst of moving. She's awesome. Thanks to all of you for such patience with my posting of this story.

RcJ

"What?" Dean Winchester demanded, regarding his younger brother over the edge of the large plastic menu he was perusing for the tenth time even though he knew the contents of Burt's Barbecue's specials by heart. Sam had just sighed dramatically, fidgeting so that his long giraffe legs bumped against Dean's. He was drumming his fingers on the table as he regarded the few patrons at the other booths, typical for a Tuesday afternoon crowd at the off the beaten path bar.

"Do you really think this was the most strategic place to arrange a meeting?" Sam frowned as he studied Dean's face. He picked up the glass of water their server, Melody, had brought him, gesturing to the table already adorned with a basket of homemade pretzels and beer cheese, along with a bucket of Burt's famous in house ranch and buffalo pork rinds that were fried in a big boiling vat of oil that Frank kept out back and which no doubt predated Dean. "Or were you once more letting your stomach sway you?"

"One," Dean put down the menu, giving his brother his most carefree, slightly smug grin as he pulled the basket of pretzels closer to him. "My stomach has never steered me wrong." He jerked his thumb towards the man sitting beside him. Caleb Reaves was still looking at his menu, although Dean knew good and well his best friend also could recite the specials and he was choosing purposively to play at being as neutral as Switzerland to avoid entering an argument with their ever logical Scholar. "Two, The Knight signed off on our location for the meet-up giving my idea two out of three thumbs up which by majority rules means I won the vote. And most importantly, I happen to be The Guardian, which means I get to call the shots whether _The Scholar_ questions my motives or not." His grin widened.

Sam rolled his eyes. "One," he countered. "The Knight is just as easily influenced by his primal urges as The Guardian, meaning more than likely you told him you'd spring for the meal if he went along with you." Sam looked from Dean to Caleb and back to his brother. "Two, you being The Guardian doesn't give you carte blanch on decisions related to The Brotherhood, not when those decisions could put _you_ in danger. And last but not least, if things go south I'm not sure our friends Yvette and Franklin will be pleased if we shoot up their place, not to mention there are innocents here."

It was Dean's turn to roll his eyes and sigh. His brother was a worrier by nature, always calculating worst case scenarios in his gigantic brain. "Sammy, I don't plan on having a shootout in Burt's Barbecue. I like eating here. Yvette named a lunch special after me and the Impala."

"Things don't always go as you plan, Dean."

"He has you there, Deuce." Caleb finally added his two cents. He put down his menu, shooting Dean a raised brow and a half grin as he snatched a pretzel from the basket and claimed the bowl of cheezy goodness for himself. "Our best intentions have a tendency to go all to hell in a bat of an eye."

"Which is why being in a location that we know is loyal to The Brotherhood is smart." Dean gestured to the bar. "I have it on good authority that Yvetta keeps a couple of loaded shotguns hidden away just in case customers get rowdy. She and Franklin have been fans of hunters since Bobby and dad saved their butts from a coven years ago so we know she has our back."

"I thought you weren't planning on their being any shooting." Sam pointed out with a disapproving frown, folding his arms over his chest.

"One day your face is going to freeze that way, little brother." Dean placed his elbows on the old Formica table, leaning forward. When Sam's scowl only deepened he glanced at Caleb who shrugged unhelpfully as he chewed on one of the pretzels Dean hadn't meant to share. Usually his best friend could be counted on to back him up but he'd been especially broody since Merrill Huff's untimely death. Dean swung his gaze back to his brother. "Protests aside, it's a little late to change our location seeing as how we're minutes away from the time we sent. We're not even sure they will show."

"Or that they're involved in Merrill's killing." Sam's pointed gaze went to Caleb, lingering on the other hunter as his worried frown deepened once more.

"I'm not going to pull out my blade and run them through, dude." Caleb growled, wiping his hands on a napkin. Dean didn't have to be a psychic to know that thought had probably flitted across Caleb's mind which is why Sam looked concerned. He took his job as The Knight seriously, which meant he felt personally responsible when a hunter died on his watch. Caleb rolled his shoulders, leaning back in the booth. "At least not until I'm sure they're responsible for ransacking Merrill's place and beating an old man to death, then all bets are off."

"We don't murder humans." Sam started on a very old and tired argument.

"How do we know they're flesh and blood?" Caleb countered, hackles rising.

"Not many creatures of the supernatural variety possess the skills to navigate the dark web, Caleb."

"But it's possible for some to manipulate a meat suit to their advantage, Runt."

"You think angels or demons are behind Merrill's killing?" Dean tossed out, hoping to distract the two rams he could see were readying to once more lock horns. The ride from Kentucky had not been quiet to say the least.

"It's not the first time they wanted to get their hands on a magical sword or powerful artifact and came knocking on The Brotherhood's door," Caleb pointed out and Dean couldn't help to recall their experience with The Spear of Destiny and the trouble it had brought. "Someone stole Patton's journal and questioned Merrill. The only thing that makes sense is they were after that damn sword."

"Maybe, but something about this feels different." Dean shook his head, not able to explain why exactly he doubted an angelic intervention. He hadn't reached out to his go to, favorite winged source, but Castiel hadn't been around as much since Heaven was in turmoil. Dean could relate to his friend's predicament because to say the least tensions were running high within The Brotherhood. As Merrill's death went unsolved, the ripples had bled over into his Triad, which gave Dean one more reason to handle the problem as quickly as possible which is why he _had_ jumped at the one solid lead they'd gotten, even if it was a long shot. "How about we save all the speculations until we meet up with the people wanting to get their hands on Patton's Sword."

"And if these people are the ones who took out Merrill?" Caleb met Dean's gaze, his gold eyes narrowing. "It's one thing for a hunter to be killed on a job, Deuce, but for one of our own to be attacked at home. Merrill was harmless. He'd been retired since before Johnny died and his only crime was maybe running his mouth to his buddies at their favorite bar on Friday nights. He was friends with Pastor Jim. These people-or whatever they were- tortured him."

"Trust me I get what you're saying, Damien." Dean ran his thumb over the silver hunter's band he wore, the slight thrum of energy he felt both comforting and a daunting reminder of his charge. He'd officially been The Guardian for over a year and sometimes missed the freedom he'd had as a mere 'soldier' in the field before he'd moved into the position of power and authority that often led him to consider other things besides his driving emotions to right what had been wronged or avenge those who'd been hurt.

"But we need to show a little restraint on this one," Sam interjected.

"Or not," Caleb said, shooting Dean the expected scowl at Sam's suggestion.

Dean had to admit that for one of their own to become part of an official murder investigation was one of those situations he had to show more caution than he typically would have. It went against his natural shoot first ask questions later inclination as well as rebuffing his Knight's tendency to seek and destroy anything that might threaten The Brotherhood. It wasn't like their work or the world they moved in lent itself to traditional methods. They weren't above impersonating officers of the law to aid in a gig, but they rarely relied on them to solve their problems. That was often done by a blade or silver bullet. Even the hunters like Ethan Matthews who actually worked as a detective in his 'normal' life maintained strict boundaries when it came to hunting- unless fate intervened in an almost comically, ironic way as it sometimes tended to do.

"Like now for instance," Dean muttered under his breath as his eyes were instantly drawn to the door of Burt's where two newcomers had just entered. The tall man with the close cropped hair and black leather jacket was not someone Dean would have overlooked in a crowd, even if they hadn't already met previously.

"What?" Caleb asked, not privy to Dean's inner dialogue and confused by the non-segue.

"Either we're about to experience a hell of coincidence or I think our interested party might have just entered the building." Dean inclined his head towards the two men who had moved to the other side of the restaurant, claiming a booth in clear view of the front door.

"Seeing as how I don't believe in coincidences and neither do you last time I checked, who am I looking at?" Caleb asked, his eyes scanning the sparse crowd. "Are you talking about the big guy who is obviously former military and the college kid?"

Sam didn't turn, not wanting to draw any attention to their out of the way table near the kitchen entrance, but frowned at Dean. "You know them?"

"So do you, Sammy. Remember our encounter with the Morse code blinking taillight in Texas?" Dean's mouth twitched in a grin, even if he wasn't sure if things had just gotten better or a whole lot more complicated. "It's our very own Jason Bourne and his partner James Blonde."

RcJ

"I don't like this." Jack Dalton slid into the side of the booth that gave him a view of the door as well as most of the restaurant, despite it being laid out in a bit of a horseshoe pattern that prevented him from seeing everyone. He'd voiced his displeasure already on several occasions after a closer study of their mysterious co-ordinates led them to the backwoods border of Arkansas and Tennessee, not into the heart of Memphis as Jerry had first suspected. He flashed his partner a look, noting that Mac had already picked up a menu. The kid always did have a think for dive joints. "Did you hear me?" Jack took in a quick inhale when the whole process of sitting down tugged at his still hurting ribs, the painkillers he'd swallowed earlier only dimming the discomfort.

"I did." Mac continued to stare at the food selection and Jack could admit his own stomach had started grumbling upon entrance when the enticing smell of smoked pork and fresh baked break had greeted them. "Your concern is duly noted."

A young woman promptly approached their table, placing two glasses of water on the table, along with a small metal bucket. "Welcome to Burt's," she said, her smile widening as she moved her gaze from Jack to Mac. "Can I start you boys off with one of our specials on tap?"

"How about two coffees for now, darlin'?" Jack pulled the menu out of Mac's hand, putting it back in the holder on the far side of the table. "We'll order in a bit if you don't mind."

"Sure thing." She tucked a few strands of hair that had escaped her ponytail behind her ear, batting her big doe eyes at Mac. "I can give you some suggestions when I come back if you'd like?"

"Thanks," Mac said distractedly, glancing at his father's watch.

Jack rolled his eyes at his partner's cluelessness, waiting until the young woman had turned to go before kicking Mac under the table. "Hey, can we get back to my list of reasons that this could be a bad idea? Starting with the fact, we are in the middle of nowhere with only Bozer for back-up."

" _Hey, I heard that."_

Jack rolled his eyes as Bozer's whiny voice joined in the conversation via the small radio transmitters Riley had provided for them. He was staked out in the parking lot monitoring the meet-up from the loaded surveillance van that Matty had somehow secured for them upon landing in Memphis. It was as big as a barge and screamed 'Government Agents' but Jack wasn't about to stare a gift horse in the mouth because at least it wasn't pea green and didn't look like they'd swiped it from a soccer mom.

" _Instead of complaining you should show some appreciation for my support. It's cold out here and I'm starving because someone wouldn't let us have snacks in the car. I thought the south was supposed to stay warm even in the winter."_

"Weather in the south is as temperamental as a woman, Bozer, and I wouldn't let you have snacks because you have the coordination and manners of a toddler." Jack said, receiving a grin from Mac. "That sweet ride is my responsibility and all I need is another mark on my vehicle record."

"We'll bring you a takeout bag and a bib, Boze." Mac assured, taking out a pork rind from the bucket before him and studying it with all the intensity he would give a beaker full of unspecified chemicals. "This plate looks right up your alley."

" _Make sure to bring me a bag of the pork rinds. The Yelp reviews said they are out of this world."_

"You looked up the food reviews?" Jack snorted, shaking his head at Mac's look of disgust when he realized he was holding the supposed 'out of the world' snack. He reached out and grabbed a few for himself, taking some pleasure in chewing them as loudly as possible.

" _You said be thorough. Are you eating some right now?"_

"I meant from a tactical advantage, dude. Like exits and entrances and whether the owners have any skeletons in their closets." Jack took a few more pork rinds enjoying both Mac's raised brow of reproach as he munched on them loudly as well as Bozer's tangible jealousy. Honestly he hadn't tasted better since the last time he'd visited a proper county fair or during his and Mac's one and only trip to Dollywood. He grinned at Mac. "This buffalo ranch seasoning is amazing."

" _Don't knock Yelp and Trip Advisor, Jack. You can learn a lot from firsthand accounts and testimonials."_

"If we were looking for a place to have dinner I'd tend to agree with you, Boze, but considering the pending meeting with possibly sinister adversaries I'd rather you stick to the more traditional script if you don't mind," Mac said. "I promise to make Jack save you some of the lard-boiled pig flesh. _"_

" _Never mind, you sort of ruined it for me."_

"Too bad we aren't here for the culinary experience." Jack picked up his water, taking a drink. "It reminds me of that hole in the wall place in Austin that JP likes."

"Maverick's." Mac added before Jack could, his gaze roving over the other patrons before settling once more on his partner.

"Yeah," Jack smiled, caught off guard that his partner remembered JP's favorite hangout considering the kid had only been there once, maybe twice at best. "I was hoping we might get a chance to go there this trip."

Mac's brow furrowed at the mention of their planned getaway to Austin and Jack was about to assure his partner that they could still make that work when a striking older woman approached their table. She was carrying a large brown bag and two Styrofoam cups.

"Welcome to Burt's." She gave both men a big toothy smile at their twin looks of confusion as she placed the items in front of them. "Compliments of the house, because we hope you'll pay us a return visit."

"I'm sorry, but we didn't even order yet," Mac told her.

"A mutual friend took the liberty of doing so for you. He said you boys would appreciate The Baby Backs." Leaning closer, she lowered her voice. "He also said you might need to take your food to go."

"Mutual friend?" Jack flashed Mac a look, his Spidey sense on full alert, just as Bozer's voice once more cut across their radio link.

" _Hey, guys, I think you may want to cut dinner short and head back to the van."_

"Damn it." Jack scooted out of the booth, standing quickly. He barely suppressed a grown when his ribs protested. "I knew this was a bad idea," he growled at Mac, wishing not for the first damn time they could just forget all the Briar fiasco and maybe meet up with JP in Kentucky.

"Don't forget your dinner," the woman smiled sweetly as Jack moved around her. "My man, Franklin makes one hell of mean sauce."

"Stay behind me," Jack growled, catching Mac's arm as he attempted to dart past him in his hurry to reach the van and Bozer. He winced as the action pulled at abused muscles, but held tight, even when Mac huffed his impatience. "How about we take the back door, bud, and not go bounding out the front like a couple of clay pigeons they might be expecting?"

"We could split up." Mac suggested as Jack pulled them both towards the rear of the bar where he knew there was an exit thanks to Bozer's actually useful intel he'd gathered earlier. "There's a side door off to the left, too."

"No way." Jack wasn't letting his partner out of his sight. Mac was as resourceful as hell but that didn't make him bulletproof as Jack had learned on too many occasions. The kid, despite being cool-headed in the most desperate of situations could also be reckless and spontaneous when he believed someone he cared about was in danger. He didn't always use his gigantic intellect, instead letting his feelings get the best of him. Jack wondered if the same couldn't be said of him when upon exiting the back of the building they were promptly intercepted by a man holding a very lethal looking black chrome .45.

"Leaving so soon?" The guy pointed the weapon at Jack, offering a sardonic grin when Jack stopped but levelled his own gun at the man's head. He didn't seem as concerned as he should have. "Frank, the owner of this fine establishment, really prefers his customers use the front door. People fleeing out the back can give the wrong impression- bad for business and all."

"If Frank's the owner, who the hell is Burt? Better yet, who the hell are you?" Jack demanded, standing his ground, willing Mac to stay behind him. The guy's smile grew at Jack's quick comeback. He took one step closer to Jack, tilting his head slightly as if sizing him up. Jack placed him in his thirties. They were dressed similarly. Black tee, jeans and beat up leather jacket. He was clean shaven though, looking like he could have easily stepped from the pages of some men's magazine. Despite the disarming good looks, Jack recognized the eyes of someone not new to holding a gun or without the willingness to use it.

"Burt's the dog, believe it or not."

Jack groaned as the answer came from behind them, another man's voice. He didn't have to turn to know whomever had replied probably had a gun held squarely in Mac's back.

"Are Frank and the lovely Yvette on Burt number three or four now?" The guy in front of Jack asked of his partner as he reached out a hand to take the weapon Jack had just lowered. Jack reluctantly released the gun, grimacing when Mac was shoved beside him, his hands raised.

"Three, I think." The guy's friend replied, stepping around in front of them now that Jack had been disarmed. He was a couple of inches taller than his buddy, the wannabe GQ model, which made him a bit freakish on the height scale if you asked Jack. He was obviously younger by several years, maybe close to Mac's age and sported long hair that would have lent him a good cover for a romance novel model or maybe a vice cop. Jack wasn't sure why, but the kid looked familiar. "This one's a Red Bone that likes to sleep in one of the stalls in the men's room."

"I can think of worse places to crash." GQ shot Jack another smile. "Of course with a nice ride like your van parked out front, I'm guessing you guys don't have to slum it very often. That thing looks like it would hold an entire SWAT team. What I'm dying to know is does it have shag carpet and faux fur-covered walls?"

"Do I look like the kind of guy that would drive around a pimped out wagon, dude?" Jack snorted.

"Actually you look like more of a muscle car kind of guy if you ask me, maybe a sweet GTO." He shrugged when Jack frowned at the correct guess. "But it's not like I'm psychic or anything. Besides, a little birdie told me that you and your buddy here are more the Aston Martin types."

"I guess The Brotherhood really does do their homework." Mac spoke for the first time and Jack wasn't quite sure of the look that passed between the other two men, although there was a definite hint of surprise.

"Trust me when I say the Scholar prides himself on it." GQ inclined his head to the younger man who did a decent imitation of Mac by rolling his eyes. "Sam's all about the details."

"Can we maybe make this very public discussion at least semi-private?" Sam offered.

"Or we could all go back inside and enjoy some of the barbecue that gets all the great Yelp reviews." Jack suggested, preferring the idea of a crowd of witnesses now that he was weaponless. "I mean if you guys were hoping for a more intimate sit down why bring us to your favorite bar?"

"If we'd known we were meeting with government agents then we'd definitely have rethought our destination." GQ waved Jack and Mac ahead of him, pointing them towards the gravel parking lot. He didn't even bother hiding the fact he was holding a weapon on them, both telling of his confidence of being on home turf and that he was quite certain they wouldn't encounter anyone in the now darkened, poorly lit space. "Now you've not only ruined dinner plans but completely derailed my hopes of a quick end to an ongoing situation we've been dealing with."

"Sorry to throw a wrench in your well-oiled machine." Jack hoped his words came out as sarcastic as he intended. Mac cut his gaze towards him in a familiar warning for him to mind his temper and not let his mouth dig them in any deeper, but having a gun pointed at him always put Jack in a disagreeable mood. Having a gun pointed at his partner made it a hundred times worse. "For a group that's supposedly been around for centuries, you boys don't seem to be really all that great at keeping a secret. Isn't that the main goal of a secret society? To be, well, secret? Will you lose your lifetime membership if news of this gets out?"

"I'm not worried about being kicked out of the club." GQ surprised Jack by laughing. "We happen to be two thirds of the governing body."

"So, you're part of The Triad?" Mac's words did what Jack's goading had not as GQ made his way around them, stopping their forward movement by once more pointing his gun at them. A soft warning of 'Caleb' echoed from behind and Jack wondered if Riley's information should have come with a warning. He'd discounted parts of the hodge-podge file she'd cobbled together and handed them as they got on the plane as science fiction at best. Jack had even accused her and Matty of making it up as a poorly timed joke because it read like part Tolkein novel, part adventures of Arthurian legend, but Mac had read every last word, uncharacteristically fascinated by the alleged infrastructure and touted historical figures tied to The Brotherhood. Jack knew his partner was keeping an open mind in hopes of finding something to help them pull Jack's fat from the proverbial fire.

"You called him the Scholar earlier," Mac gestured to the kid with the long hair. Jack's partner had his own way of poking at a bee's nest that might not involve as much raging temper as Jack's methods, but were just as affective in stirring up even more trouble for them. The older agent didn't like the fact that Mac seemed to have rattled _Caleb's_ cage, and searched his memory for what he remembered reading about The Triad. "That would more than likely make you The Knight, right?" Mac continued, and Jack could practically hear the nonchalant shrug in his tone. "You're the one that's over security and protection detail, like a general in the field."

"I'm definitely not the one you want to toy with, kid."

Jack took a strategic step, one that placed him in front of Mac in a move he hoped would discourage the younger agent from continuing to toss out his theories. He was far from knighthood, but he understood all about protection detail. "As the guy who's always running security for our team, and having commanded troops in the Army myself, I totally get the major pain in the ass it can be. We didn't come all the way here to screw with your protocol. We just want to talk to the guy in charge. You did reach out to us after all."

"Only after you came sniffing around looking for something that doesn't belong to you." Caleb responded, continuing to glare at Jack as if he could see straight through him. The intensity at which the younger man was clenching his jaw was either giving Jack a sympathetic headache or the Ibuprofen he'd swallowed before disembarking their plane had begun to wear off and his mild concussion was still making itself known once more with a vengeance. He resisted the urge to rub a hand over his forehead to ease the pounding that had started there.

"Dean wants to see them." The younger man, Sam, finally said, interrupting the stalemate.

"Yeah, well, Dean also wanted to eat ribs and have some pie but we both know that's not going to happen now." Caleb replied, finally breaking his stare off with Jack.

"I wouldn't be so sure," Sam interrupted and Jack followed the younger man's line of sight as he nodded towards the person who'd just closed the sliding door to their van and stepped away from the vehicle. It was the woman who'd tipped them off that they would be leaving sooner than expected.

"Looks like Yvette made a curbside delivery." Caleb shook his head, lowering his gun as the woman gave a friendly wave as she started back towards the front door of the restaurant.

"I bagged up your dinners, sugar. Didn't want you boys going away from Burt's hungry." She called as if there were nothing strange about any of what was taking place. Perhaps men being led away at gun point was commonplace in these neck of the woods but Jack considered using the distraction to make a play for the weapon now at Caleb's side.

"Don't even think about it." Caleb hissed under his breath, not even turning to look at Jack but waving his free hand at Yvette again. "Thanks, beautiful. Tell Frank we'll catch him next time."

When she'd disappeared from sight, Caleb looked over his shoulder. "Just so you know, she wouldn't have blinked twice if I'd put a bullet in you, so be glad I really don't want to dig a grave tonight."

"He's joking." Sam said shooting a frown to his older friend as he gestured for them to start walking once more. "He would have made _me_ dig the grave, just like always."

"It's only fair. Right?" Caleb shrugged a shoulder, inclining his head towards Jack. "But you being a military man, you understand all about seniority and rank. I mean, I've been a hunter since he was a drooling toddler."

"A hunter?" Mac asked, although his question went unanswered as they'd made their way to the van and Caleb tapped on the door before sliding it open.

The sight of Bozer comfortably relaxed in one of the van's swivel silver leather seats that lined the row of computer screens in the spacious back, decked in a paper bib, devouring a half rack of ribs was not the scene he'd imagined unfolding. Jack's surprise was doubled when the person lounging in the other seat also eating a very messy meal, feet kicked up on the expensive monitoring equipment was not a stranger. He sure as hell wasn't the old, white bearded, knight-like entity that Jack had envisioned when he'd read Riley's research on 'The Guardian of The Brotherhood'. Instead, this kid looked a whole hell of a lot like one Detective Malloy, the vice cop from Texas who'd helped save Mac's ass from El Nacho, the drug lord from Mexico.

"Jason Bourne." The kid put down his plate of wings, offering Jack a cocky grin as he wiped his hands on the paper bib he was sporting. "We meet again."

"I'll be damned. _Dean Malloy_?" Jack glanced from Mac, to Bozer-who had the good graces to put down his food at Jack's narrowed glower, then back to the man who'd up until ten seconds ago had been nothing more than a really lucky break and a foot note on a case file. "What the hell is going on?"

"It's Dean Winchester actually." He extended a hand, brow raised. "I never got a chance to thank you for the grenade launcher by the way. That baby is awesome. I named her Lucille."

Jack took the proffered hand, allowing Dean to pull him into the van. "You're welcome-I think."

"Yeah Lucille is awesome." Sam climbed into the van after nudging Mac to do the same. He slid the door closed behind them. "In the same way that giving a five year old a machine gun and telling him to use it safely is awesome."

"You're his partner." Jack remembered a flash of the tall young man who'd hung back at the perimeter of EL Noche's compound in Mexico. The one who had reminded him of Mac and the kid Malloy had kept glancing to as Jack relayed his deep appreciation for their help in rescuing his partner. Now the familiarity made complete sense, only everything else was a mystery.

"He's my kid brother actually." Dean let go of Jack's hand, giving him a slap on the shoulder. "He's Sam Winchester. The broody guy over there is Caleb, another brother by everything but blood," Dean glanced to Mac and then back to Jack. "I'm sure you get that."

"And does he go around impersonating a police officer as well?" Mac asked as he took his position beside Jack, his look more one of annoyance than astonishment.

"You know these guys?" Bozer spoke up, looking longingly at his plate of food.

"They helped save Mac's life." Jack propped his hands on his hips, sizing up the group of men. Caleb had now taken a seat on one of the free chairs, though he still held his weapon at the ready as if he weren't sure how things were going to shake out. "I was under the impression they were vice detectives from Texas."

"And you haven't used an alias before, Mr. Double-O-Seven?" Dean arched a brow. "Isn't subterfuge and undercover work sort of a spy thing?"

"We're agents of the government." Mac pointed out, crossing his arms over his chest. "We take on different identities in the course of our jobs."

"Actually the espionage act sort of frowns on agents or any persons using alternate identities to go about their business." Sam gave a sheepish nod to Mac. "Of course I'm sure everything you all do is for the overall good of humanity."

"More importantly The Brotherhood predates the government." Dean lifted his hand, a silver ring flashing on his finger. "Hell, we helped establish the government. Half the founding fathers were hunters."

"And what is it that you hunt exactly?" Mac's tone was a bit baiting and Jack knew good and well Mac was well aware of what The Brotherhood allegedly hunted. "The research we found wasn't completely specific."

"Different things depending on the situation," Dean's reply was cryptic, a response that Jack knew would not satisfy Mac's inherent need to know intellect.

"Things like legendary swords?" Jack asked before his partner could interject. He pressed his hand against his side when his ribs gave another twinge of pain.

"Sometimes." Dean nodded, his head tilting as he took in Jack's slightly hunched stance. "Let's just say we have a vested interest in objects that are not exactly natural."

"So you do investigate the _supernatural_?" Mac's question had Jack pinching the bridge of his nose, blowing out a breath of air. He knew his best friend was itching to discuss what he'd read in the file Riley composed, mostly so he might dissect it and promptly discredit it as the incredulous outlandishness that he thought it was. Mac had even used the word poppycock, which brought about a good ten minute teasing from Jack.

"We don't really open up about all the ins and outs of what it is we do," Caleb said, seeming still somewhat cautious and curtly. "In fact, we do what we do and shut our mouths about it."

"Trust me when I say it's a lot to wrap your mind around and I doubt you all want to spend time debating theories," Sam continued, in a way that let Jack know the younger man was obviously used to playing peacemaker and had a bit more polish when it came to handling a sticky situation.

"Unless they're some of the government suits who debunk the X-files." Caleb spoke up, finally putting his gun away. He looked at Jack. "Although from what Deuce tells me, you two are more into apprehending drug lords and sending in strike teams. Not really Mulder and Scully kind of work if you ask me."

"I would totally like to tackle the X-files." Bozer threw his two cents in. "But we're not with the FBI and as it is our boss barely lets me out of the lab to go into the field so..."

"Bozer." Mac admonished before Jack could mention the whole part about not sharing any more information than was absolutely necessary. His years in Delta and CIA had forced him to embrace the whole doing your job and clamming up about it. It once again showed that Bozer still had a lot to learn though Jack was actually surprised he kept quiet for so long.

"So, it looks like all of us agree that the less we talk about what the other team actually does the better off we'll be." Sam proposed, giving his brother a pointed look that hinted at them having a previous conversation about such.

"What do you say, Dalton?" Dean glanced to Jack, the smug grin back on his face as if he were looking forward to the joint venture. "I think we already agreed that we're on the same side when we had our chat back in Mexico. We're all the guys with the white hats and capes, you just happen to have a government stamp of approval."

"I know you saved my partner's life when you didn't have to. That's enough for me." Jack glanced to Mac, who still looked entirely skeptical but willing to concede to his judgment. Jack returned his gaze to Dean, running a hand through his short hair. "Honestly, this isn't exactly a legitimate mission to begin with, more like a private matter. My hide is on the line so I'd hope you might hear us out."

"Before I agree to anything, I'd like to know why you're looking for Patton's Sword." Caleb leaned forward in his chair, elbows resting on his knees as he regarded Jack.

"We weren't ever looking for any sword." Mac replied with a resigned sigh, uncrossing his arms. He shot Bozer a look that had their friend focusing on his food once more before facing Caleb. "A contact of ours came across the sword when he was looking for Patton's Notebook. When he inquired about it, one of your people reached out to him. It was never our intention to get involved in a treasure hunt."

"What would a government agency want with a hunter's journal?" Caleb countered without addressing Mac's point.

"So Patton _was_ one of The Brotherhood?" Bozer asked with a renewed excitement and awe. Jack was surprised he didn't have Jerry on speed dial but was pretty certain Bozer was dying to get the chance to talk to the other man.

"Patton wore a ring." Again Dean briefly glanced to the band he was wearing, and Jack noted that Caleb and Sam wore identical ones. He gave a lop-sided grin. "Obviously, it's not something advertised in the history books. The Brotherhood isn't exactly a high society social club."

"Look fellas we're not even sure we're talking about the same Dear Diary here." Jack ran a hand over his mouth, leaning back against the bank of monitoring equipment when he was hit by a dizzy spell, his headache picking up fervor. He swallowed thickly, wondering if he had just gone white as it felt the blood was draining from his face. Jack blinked, focusing on Dean's gaze. "We were under the impression the book we were looking for held…" Jack searched for the best way to spin the truth, the pounding in his head made his brain work sluggishly.

"Let's just say some very strategic information that certain agencies of our government would like to get their hands on," Mac supplied, giving Jack a worried frown which the older agent dismissed with a slight shake of his head.

Jack cleared his throat. "Up until a few days ago we thought Patton's Notebook was some kind of code name for a ledger. That was until our source hit on this connection to the actual General Patton and then you boys showed up in the mix."

"Why is that by the way?" Mac moved closer to Jack, making his change in position seem casual as he also rested against the computer equipment, his shoulder brushing against the older agent's. Jack had a momentary appreciation for over-sized tactical vans as all the men gathered, aside from Bozer, were over six feet and not of the slight variety. As he fought to keep his breath measured he was glad not to have to through an onset of extreme claustrophobia into the mix. "I don't understand why a quarry for a journal or even a sword would warrant an ultra secret society risking unwanted attention, especially if it meant revealing yourselves to men you knew worked for the government. I mean you met Jack for only a few minutes. How were you to know he wouldn't turn you in for impersonating an officer?"

"Well, for one, your partner sent me a grenade launcher complete with grenades after only talking to me for a few minutes." Dean snorted. "That sort of told me he wasn't your typical, play by the rules kind of guy. To answer the other." He paused for a moment, glancing to his brother and friend and Jack could see some kind of silent communication taking place. "One of our people was murdered a few months ago and the only thing taken from his place was a bunch of old hunter's journals, including one belonging to General George S. Patton. We didn't really make the connection until one of our geek squad hit on a coincidental surge in interest in Patton. Until then we were at a dead end as to why or better yet 'who' killed our man."

"You have a geek squad?" Bozer asked, eyes shining. "Riley will love that."

"Not important, Bozer." Jack flashed his team member the kind of look he hoped conveyed that his commentary should cease and desist immediately. With Bozer momentarily chastised and back to picking at his barbecue, Jack focused once more on Winchester. "When was your man taken out?"

"About three months ago." It was Caleb that answered.

"The timeline fits with the meet-up in Mexico." Mac cut his gaze to Jack.

"Merrill wasn't even a player anymore," Caleb continued. "He was an old man, retired from the job. Whoever did him drew it out and they were definitely looking for something that he didn't want to give them."

"They tortured him?" Jack asked, his fist clenching at the all too recent memory of Mac being tortured by Briar's people when the whole mess started.

"The coroner's report listed multiple fractures in his fingers among the many injuries he suffered," Sam filled in, a slight frown on his face. "There were superficial cuts and burns, not to mention traces of dish water in his lungs."

"Waterboarding." Jack rubbed a hand over his face, trying to erase the immediate images that battered his mind, including ones from Cairo that mixed poorly with the more recent events that landed Mac in a Phoenix's medical ward. He blew out a breath, willing the pounding headache to go away.

"Honestly, if Merrill had been missing an organ or two, maybe had his head separated from his body, then we wouldn't have thought that much about it being an outside job." Dean shrugged as if such atrocities might befall their people regularly. "But this kind of careful, intentional working over…"

"Cries military," Caleb interjected with more than a hint of distaste. He narrowed his gaze at Jack. "Special forces shit. Or maybe CIA."

"Don't look at me, son." Jack shook his head. He wouldn't deny the darker sides of either institution but he could say with a clear conscious that he'd never participated in the more skilled side of interrogations. "My days in the military and with the CIA were typically spent behind a rifle and a scope. If I took someone out it was quick and painless. Mostly," Jack added, wincing as a sharp pain lanced through his skull. He couldn't help but to think of one of the exceptions that had landed them in the current mess.

"Who's Craddock and what does he have to do with all this?"

The surprise question caught Jack off guard, and he blinked, shocked that Caleb had just echoed his own dark thoughts.

"How do you know…" Before Jack could properly finish the question Mac gripped his arm.

"Jack, you're bleeding." Mac's worried eyes found Jack's, his voice was quiet but urgent and tight with concern.

"Well, that's new." Jack reached a hand up to his face where he could now feel the steady flow of warm blood trickling from his nose. He didn't have much time to think of what might have caused the onslaught because another wave of pain pinged through his head and he doubled over with a groan he couldn't quite stop, one hand going to his head as the other knocked Winchester's plate of discarded barbecue from the panel as he tried to catch himself.

"Jack!"

Somewhere through the ringing in his ears Jack heard his partner and Bozer call his name, the fear in his best friend's voice easily cut through the disorientation. It gave Jack more than enough incentive to fight the black dots now dancing in his field of vision, the need to reassure the kid was strong, but the unrelenting undertow of unconsciousness was just a bit mightier. As his legs gave way and he plunged face first into oblivion, Jack hoped to hell Mac could whip something up to take Burt's bangin' barbecue sauce and bloodstains out of the van's nice gray carpet.


	7. Chapter 7

Those We Gather Close

By: Ridley

A/N: Sorry this chapter took a while. Thank you for your patience and I hope you enjoy! Thanks to Mary and all the kind reviewers! You know who you are. As a reminder this is a bit of a crossover at this point with Supernatural, to further complicate things (insert grin) I have tossed in my Brotherhood AU from the Supernatural verse. It is not as complicated as it sounds, or at least I hope not. Let me know if it is confusing or if I have lost you!

RcJ

Mac wouldn't have quite managed to keep his partner from hitting the floor if not for Dean Winchester's quick reflexes. Together they were able to catch Jack and ease him to the space in between the chairs and instrument panels. Mac braced his hand behind his partner's neck as they rolled him over onto his back, revealing his best friend's blood-smeared slack, pale face. Mac's heart lurched at the sight, his pulse hammering as he tried to keep his emotions in check. Now was not the time to lose control of the situation but Jack looked way too vulnerable for the younger man's liking. Jack was usually indestructible, or at least that's what Mac liked to tell himself. Bozer appeared at Mac's side, brandishing a handful of napkins and his cell phone. His eyes were wide with alarm, and Mac couldn't help but to notice he had barbecue sauce on his chin.

"Mac, should I call someone?"

"No." Mac answered tightly as Jack stirred under their touch, giving a low groan. He let out the breath he hadn't realized he was holding, letting his fingers travel to Jack's neck where he found a strong if not slightly fast pulse. "Give him a minute."

As much as Mac might have felt like panicking moments earlier when he watched his partner reach up to touch the thin trail of blood beneath his nose before passing out, he knew Jack would never forgive him if he reacted out of that fear and called in help before he knew what was going on. Jack had sustained a concussion and despite his good act of pretending to sleep on the plane ride from LA, Mac knew good and well the older agent had dozed for a few moments at best. This reaction could be a complication of exhaustion or…

"Damien." Winchester's voice interrupted Mac's silent check list. It was quiet, but tense. "What the hell did you do?"

Mac forced his gaze from Jack to look at the man across from him. Dean was staring expectantly at Caleb and Mac, misinterpreting the question in the other man's gaze as possibly a request for his friend's assistance spoke up. "Is he a medic?"

"Currently, he's a menace." Dean grimaced, giving Mac a regretful look he didn't quite understand. "But you could say Caleb knows a lot about head cases."

"I didn't do anything out of the ordinary, Deuce. I swear," Caleb defended, frowning. He took a knee by Winchester, his gold eyes meeting Mac's confused blue gaze. "Did your buddy have a recent head injury?"

Mac nodded, swallowing the lump that had sprung to his throat threatening to choke him. "He took a beating a couple of days ago. He has a concussion, some broken ribs and a bruised kidney." Mac's gaze went back to his partner, his hand resting on Jack's shoulder, gripping the material of his friend's shirt a little tighter than necessary. "He shouldn't even be out in the field, but it's not like we had much choice in the matter. Do you think this is because of the concussion?" Mac asked still hoping for some medical insight.

"That would explain it." Caleb sighed, running a hand over his face. His glance went to Dean, and then Sam, who was standing over them. Mac didn't miss the twin frowns of disapproval. "I had no way of knowing that."

"Which is why keeping your mind to yourself is typically a good idea, dude." Dean offered a weak smile when Mac furrowed his brow in confusion. "Caleb can check him out. I'm sure Bourne will be fine. Deltas are extra tough stock. Right?"

Caleb didn't look particularly happy with the offer and Mac still wasn't certain of his credentials but he inclined his head to Jack. "Is this some kind of indication of an aneurism or…"

"Don't start freaking out, kid." Caleb leaned over and placed a hand on Jack's forehead. He closed his eyes and Mac's uncertainty flourished to full on doubt. He was pretty sure medics didn't do their best work by 'feeling the force' as Jack might have put it if he'd been conscious. "This is probably just a sign of your partner over-taxing his cerebral cortex, maybe putting a little too much pressure on the synapses."

"Now that's a first," Bozer snorted, seeming nonplussed by the unusual examination. Perhaps this was some kind of chakra alignment or other holistic approach Bozer had seen in one of his yoga classes, although Caleb looked nowhere near the type to partake in such new age procedures. Mac's roommate bumped his shoulder as he returned his cellphone to his pocket. "I'm pretty sure using his brain too much is not something Jack's ever been accused of."

Mac glared at his best friend only to have Bozer give a shrug. "What? Maybe he pulled a muscle like when a guy tries to run a marathon without training beforehand?"

Before Mac could defend his partner's completely competent intellect, Jack's eyes fluttered open and he gave another low groan. Caleb slowly withdrew his touch and opened his eyes, offering Mac a 'see I told you' grin.

"Nothing to worry about," he said glancing Dean. "Just like I thought, I didn't break anything."

Jack tried to turn his head, blinking. "Mac?"

"I'm here." Mac leaned forward so Jack could see him, instead of asking Caleb what he meant by 'break anything'. The look of relief on Jack's face was instant, and Mac forced a shaky smile he didn't quite feel. "You okay, big guy?"

"What the hell happened? Did you get a look at that horse that kicked me in the head?" Jack pressed one hand against his forehead.

"Sorry about that, cowboy." Caleb rocked back on his heels, glancing from Jack to Mac and then back. "I shouldn't have been quite so zealous in pumping you for information in your compromised state. It must have been more than you could handle in your weakened state. My bad."

"I'm not sure your line of questioning took me out, GQ." Jack's eyes met Mac's, before going over the other occupants of the van. His gaze lingered on Bozer for a moment before going back to Mac. "And I'm not compromised or weak. Ever." Despite Jack's protests, Mac noticed the way his partner's face was still devoid of color and the fact he kept blinking his eyes as if he couldn't quite focus. "Help me up, bud."

"I didn't figure you the type to faint during mild interrogation, Bourne." Dean reached out to assist Mac in helping Jack to a sitting position. Once Jack was propped against the side of the van, Winchester reclaimed the chair he'd been sitting in earlier, his grin back in place. "I mean don't they screen for poor constitutions before passing out spy cards."

"My constitution is fine," Jack snapped, doing more to assure Mac that he was really okay than Caleb's amateur medic's proclamation had. Mac was beginning to appreciate the fact that Dean Winchester seemed to deal with stressful situations with the same dark humor that Jack often conjured. Jack reached up to touch his face. His nose bleed had appeared to stop as suddenly as it had started but Mac's stomach still twisted as his best friend's fingers came away stained with blood. "The change in weather is probably wreaking havoc with my sinuses."

"Caleb thinks you could have blown some brain fuses," Bozer offered Jack the handful of napkins along with the unwanted postulation. When Jack's frown deepened, their teammate continued on. "Like that time when Mac tried to input all the data on string theory into Sparky's core processor so he'd have someone actually on his IQ level to debate with, besides Jill that is, and the poor guy short-circuited."

"Who's Sparky?" Dean asked.

"Our own version of mild-mannered terminator." Jack answered before Mac could explain that Sparky was a highly sophisticated robotic interface. "Think pre-Sky Net artificial intelligence butler."

"Like Alexa?" Sam queried, thoughtfully.

"No," Jack shook his head, wiping his face with the napkins. "More along the lines of Alfred from Batman if the old guy had been a hunk of metal and wires."

"Cool." Dean gave Mac a look akin to a kid visiting Santa at the mall. "If this all works out could we get one of those, Double O Genius?"

"It's Mac, and I'm fairly certain that…"

"No!" Sam protested before Mac could even voice his doubts regarding Sparky considering the amount of money Phoenix had invested and then there was the fact the robot was Mac's original design and the only one currently of his kind. "Absolutely not," the younger Winchester added.

"Maybe we could help Agent Dalton off the floor before you start asking him to further plump our arsenal, Deuce. " Caleb reached out a hand and to Mac's surprise Jack took it without much disgruntlement, allowing the other man to pull him to standing. He supposed his partner recognized a kindred spirit because from what Mac had read in Riley's file, the Knight of The Brotherhood sounded a lot like a man cut from the same cloth as the men Mac had served with in Jack's Delta unit. Brave, stubborn and extremely protective. On a good day that could mean instant camaraderie but Mac had also witness some impressive brutal battles for dominance.

"You're just feeling guilty because you nearly melted Bourne's main frame." Dean abandoned his seat once more, slapping Jack on the shoulder once he was upright.

"My head is fine." Jack claimed emphatically and Mac didn't miss the fact the older agent's gaze found his when he added. "I'm good. It takes more than a nosebleed to put me on the bench."

"Good to hear." Caleb released his grip on Jack's forearm, stepping out of his space, which was hard considering they were in tight quarters. "It sounds like you don't exactly have the luxury of sitting this one out."

"Did the beating _Mac_ mentioned have anything to do with why your neck is currently on the line?" Sam asked once Jack was somewhat steady on his feet once more and some of the color had returned to his face. Mac appreciated the other man's emphatic use of his name as well as the look he shot his brother when he said it.

"Jack's been accused of murder." Bozer was the one to reply, his earlier excitement giving way to concern.

"Okay," Sam didn't seem too surprised. He tilted his head, frowning at Jack. "But how exactly is finding Patton's journal, whether it be a highly confidential ledger or an eighty year old hunter's journal going to be a benefit to your case, let alone help in providing doubt to a jury or proving your innocence."

"You'll have to excuse, Sammy," Dean said, with a slight roll of his eye. "He's in law school on the fast track to Juris Doctor-hood."

"Oh, it's not, counselor." Jack took another swipe at his face with the napkins, giving Sam a half grin. Mac winced when all his partner accomplished was spreading mostly dried blood to his cheek. Jack tossed the paper in the garbage can beside him with a sigh. "Because I'm not innocent by a long shot. I killed the bastard."

"But in self-defense," Bozer interjected once more. Mac kept his gaze on Jack who actually grinned at their teammate's vehement qualifier.

"Sort of." Jack stuck out his hand, making a wish-washy motion. "That's definitely a matter of perspective."

"He killed him because of me." Mac ignored the look he knew his best friend was giving him. The one that if it had been translated to words would have protested what Mac knew to be true, insisting none of their current mess was Mac's fault, but instead somehow fell squarely to his partner on account of Jack's failure to shield Mac from Craddock's machinations in the first place. He ignored his best friend and his wrong, but well-intentioned glower. "So if you help us get the notebook," he continued, holding Winchester's gaze with a grim one of his own. "I'll be indebted to you more than I already am considering my rescue you helped with in Mexico. I might not be able to offer you a multi-million dollar prototype but I'm resourceful to say the least."

"The Morse code blinking taillight sort of gave that away, kid, and the grenade launcher more than evened the score board. I mean you wouldn't believe what I took out with that thing." Dean folded his arms over his chest. He glanced at Jack, and the silent exchange that passed between them did not escape Mac's attention. It seemed Caleb wasn't the only one cut from the Jack Dalton cloth. "I take it this man…"

"Craddock," Jack supplied, with a quick flash of his teeth.

"So Craddock," Dean continued. "Didn't understand the code we talked about in Mexico?"

"He most definitely did not. Forget the law or any such thing as loyalty," Jack snorted, and Mac watched color seep back into this best friend's face, although he was certain it was more telling of Jack's raise in blood pressure than a resurgence of health. To add to Mac's worry, his partner kept one arm still tightly pressed around his mid-section, guarding his ribs which Mac imagined had been aggravated in his fall. "Clay Craddock was an abomination to everything men like us hold to, pal. Trust me, he got what he deserved."

"Then I'd offer you our help for that alone, but the truth is, I need to find the people responsible for my man's death." Dean twisted the silver band on his hand, the one Mac had noted was identical to the ones Caleb and Sam wore as well. "If I can get my hands on Patton's sword, then that's all the better because as the smartest man I ever knew once pointed out, people handle power really piss poorly."

"Sun Tzu?" Jack queried.

"Pastor Jim," Dean replied before offering Mac's partner an appreciative grin. "But I like the way your mind works, Bourne. My old man swore by Sun Tzu."

"A possible ledger of rogue agents would not even have the tiniest of convergence points on a vin diagram with that of a delusional general's personal diary." Mac didn't want to play Devil's Advocate, but he was beginning to doubt their quests were truly going to overlap. As much as he might have enjoyed debating what these men did, or at least claimed to do, he didn't have time to waste-not when Jack's life was on the line. Mac refused to imagine failing at their objective. He could not lose one more person, especially the one person who often made his world make sense

"Does someone want to translate that for me?" Dean looked to his brother as if Mac had just spoken gibberish. "Sammy?"

"He really doesn't think it's likely we're looking for the same journal and I don't think searching for a sword is on his agenda."

"But you said it yourself that the timelines could fit, Mac," Bozer interjected, obviously buying more into the idea that they might truly engage in some treasure hunt. "If nothing else we could have Riley and Matty look into the murder. No offence to The Brotherhood's Geek Squad," Bozer flashed an apologetic glance in Dean's direction, "But Phoenix has a world renowned hacker at our disposal. Riley can crack into any database and our boss isn't often tagged Matilda the Hun because of the infamous conqueror's alleged short stature which she shares, but because people are _terrified_ of her. It's awesome." His eyes twinkled.

"I'm all for using your strengths, dude," Dean held up a hand when Mac started to protest. "You said it yourself, right now Patton's journal is the only clue either of us has to solving our individual mysteries. If the search doesn't pan out, we can still help you. Hell, I've been a wanted man a few times myself. We all have. There are ways around facing a jury."

"We'd prefer to be able to keep our normal lives in the process." Mac said before his partner could speak up. The glint in Jack's eye made his stomach clench and Mac, although willing to do whatever it took in the end to keep Jack out of jail, didn't want to make the only decision he knew he could live with in the end. Going on the lamb with his best friend or maybe joining The Brotherhood-which is exactly what Mac was sure his partner was possibly fantasizing about- wasn't exactly in his life plan.

"Normal is totally overrated." Dean looked at his brother.

Sam cleared his throat. "I think I understand where you're coming from."

"So we'll reach out to our team and see what they can come up with on your murder, but about the journal..." Jack was looking steadier, but Mac didn't miss the fact his partner had leaned ever so slightly against him. He wasn't even sure Jack realized Mac was keeping him upright. "If you've had no luck in finding it this entire time, then what makes you think you know where to look now."

"We might not know where the journal is, but we might have better luck finding the sword." Sam suggested, looking at his brother before focusing back on Jack. "If we're right and Merrill was killed because of what Patton wrote in his notebook then it would definitely be plausible that the men who wanted it- whether your guys or someone else entirely- probably wanted that sword and if we find it before they do, that gives us leverage."

"That's still going with the theory that the two journals are the same. I don't understand why agents would want a legendary sword, collector's item or not." As a kid Mac liked puzzles-a lot. He easily recalled an April fool's joke when Bozer sneakily replaced pieces of a complicated puzzle Mac had been working on for months with pieces from a different puzzle with a similar scene. It drove Mac crazy when he could not make everything line up and fit. This case was beginning to feel a lot like that long ago, frustrating-albeit pretty clever-reuse. He felt as if someone were purposively throwing in things that didn't belong to convolute an already perplexing situation. It was pissing him off.

"I highly doubt they want to sell it to the highest bidder, kid." Caleb ran a hand through his hair, a dark scowl on his face. "These aren't your typical enthusiasts. Think broader, like tyrants and want to be dictators-men who have the manner and means to offer a fortune to the person or persons who can guarantee them an advantage like no other."

"How can one sword offer anyone such a thing? A mass storage of black market weapons I could get. Even the ingredients to a dirty bomb or a chemical agent, but a sword?" Mac let out a frustrated breath. The ridiculous topic coupled with the gnawing worry for Jack made his patience run thin. He folded his arms over his chest, his gaze narrowing as he studied the other man proposing the incredible.

"Have you heard of Excalibur or Caliburn?" Caleb raised a challenging brow. "How about the Holy Lance?"

"Who hasn't, man?" Jack chimed in, his interest unmistakable. "You know there are legends that old Hitler himself had his hands on the Holy Lance for a while..."

"Most everyone knows the legends and stories of instruments capable of granting power," Mac tempered, interrupting Jack's spiel. "But I'm a scientist who deals in reality. The last time I checked magical blades weren't big in the espionage circle or in modern warfare."

"I'm just saying it might pay to keep an open mind." Caleb shrugged, seemingly not concerned by Mac's reaction. "But then again I've wielded the Sword of David and sat as Siege Perilous at the Round Table."

"Ignore him," Sam jumped in quickly. "He tends to get caught up in the whole Knight thing and wax metaphorical." After giving Caleb a dark glare, he turned a pleading gaze to his brother. "How about we just take a page out of Mac's book and go to our own science guy. I'm pretty sure Joshua might have some light to shed on the whereabouts of the sword if my research that it was blessed by a certain priestess proves true."

"You have a resident scientist on your squad?" Bozer asked, sounding impressed. His excitement was back full force and contagious if the way Jack pepped up even more was any indication.

"Josh is more alchemist than chemist but if it makes you all feel better, kid, then yeah, he's a nerdy kind of guy." Dean was the one to reply, looking from Bozer to Jack. "Are you up for a road trip, Bourne?"

"Wait," Mac held up a hand in protest as Jack gave an 'I'm up for anything response. "Did you say alchemy?"

"It's a science, right?" Dean raised a brow.

"A pseudo science at best." Mac folded his arms over his chest, narrowing his gaze at Jack.

"Some make the argument it was the medieval forerunner of chemistry," Sam countered.

Mac arched a skeptical brow. "An argument that has its loose basis in the idea that lead can be changed into gold and that there exists and elixir for immortality."

"That's as crazy as changing water into silver, dude." Dean grinned at his brother eliciting another scowl from the more serious minded Winchester. Caleb chuckled but Mac was confused as to what exactly was funny about their exchange.

"All I'm saying," Sam started, his gaze swinging back to Mac, "is that alchemy isn't all about transmuting base metals. It brought important advances to the hard sciences, some of which are still used today. I'm just suggesting that you don't discount the things you might not necessarily understand or those incapable of being studied under a microscope."

Mac considered himself an open-minded individual, despite his background entrenched in 'the hard sciences' as Sam put it. He hated it when someone correctly pointed out that he might be not as open to theories that weren't easily proven by statistical data. The first sign of ignorance was the willingness to discount other's points of view. He sighed, letting his hands drop to his side in a sign of capitulation. "Where exactly are you expecting us to go?"

"Louisville, KY. We can be there by morning," Dean answered jumping in on what he must have taken as Mac's agreement. "The Big Four Bridge is pretty kick ass at sunrise."

"Architecturally speaking, the John Roebling Suspension Bridge is the jewel of Kentucky, but Deuce is right The Big Four is pretty spectacular."

"Ignore Damien," Dean waved a hand to dismiss his friend's commentary. "He thinks just because he's built a few bridges and designed some award-winning buildings he has to give his opinion on worthwhile city landmarks, when we all know it's the food scene that makes a place. Well, that and the loose women."

"Amen, brother," Jack spoke up.

"Just wait, Bourne, I know a sweet little diner that has the best candied bacon breakfast sandwich…" Dean launched into an enthusiast recounting of menu items from SuperChef's Breakfast that had Bozer and Jack completely entranced, but Mac looked to Sam who gave him a knowing nod.

"It's just far enough that your partner can get some sleep." He kept his voice low as he stepped closer to Mac. "If it will make you feel better, Mac, we can even have a doctor meet us at Joshua's office."

Mac's mouth twitched, appreciating the gesture. "Let me guess…a witch doctor?"

"I can see how you'd think that." Sam gave a sheepish smile. "I'm not going to lie. We actually have one of those as well, but I promise Mackland got his degree from a reputable institution. He's actually a renowned neurosurgeon, so…"

"As tempting as it might be to have my partner's head checked out by someone celebrated in the field of neuroscience," Mac interrupted, glancing at Jack who was still intently listening to Dean. His partner seemed to register the sudden scrutiny and momentarily met Mac's gaze, giving a quick wink. It was an obvious attempt to assure the younger man he was fine and Mac rolled his eyes at the gesture, returning his focus to Sam. He smiled. "I appreciate the offer, but honestly I'll be doing good to get Jack to let me drive so he can take a nap."

Sam shook his head, the look he gave Mac one of empathetic understanding. "What is it with older brothers and their obsession with being in the driver's seat?"

"I'm still working that one out." Mac glanced again at Jack who was grinning as Dean explained something called a root beer waffle float. He suspected all the posturing went back to some Alpha dog mentality and a desire to constantly assert enough control to keep all those in their pack safe. But just as Mac knew there wasn't time to debate logic with Sam Winchester, he also didn't have the luxury of waxing on about the pains of being someone's kid brother-although at any other time he might relish the idea of commiserating such. Instead he would keep his focus where it needed to be, on doing whatever it took to help Jack. If that meant driving across the country with a band of supernatural hunters to meet up with an alchemist who had connections to a priestess then so be it. Birth order and blood relations be damned, brothers did whatever it took to save each other.

To be continued…


	8. Chapter 8

Those We Gather Close

By: Ridley

A/N: As always, sorry this story is a little slow in coming. The tags to the episodes keep interrupting me! I have two stories I would really like to do over the summer hiatus after this one is finished or maybe in the midst. One is in the Between Brother's universe, Fear is a Liar, and one I want to do as sort of a tag to the Season Finale, but that promises to be a multi-chapter. I would love to post something every Friday to keep us entertained during hiatus! Keep your fingers crossed. As always, huge kudos to those who consistently review and send me messages. You do inspire me to keep writing. And to **Mary** , who is such the amazing cheerleader and amazing hurt/comfort connoisseur. She put a lot of work into this chapter!

RcJ

Mac awoke with a start, the sensation of not quite knowing where he was setting off a charge of momentary panic. His heart hammered against his sternum, sending adrenaline through his still slightly sluggish limbs as he gave a frantic look around. The sound of rain pounding on the roof above him had him searching out the closest window where he was met with the scenes of a dreary dawn. One would think his body would have been somewhat accustomed to the feeling of foreignness considering he found himself in locations all over the world on a regular basis, but he didn't typically sleep in a car, or better yet a surveillance van.

"About time you woke up, sleeping beauty." Jack appeared as if on cue, climbing into the van, quickly sliding the door closed to keep out the rain that was being blown sideways by the gale. Mac experienced a wave of relief as his partner shook his head much like one of the dogs from the ranch might do after a dip in the lake. He gave Mac a small smirk. "Maybe I should take that last part back. You're looking pretty rough, kid."

"Where were you?" Mac winced at the almost child-like quality of the question, his sleep-roughened voice not helping. He pushed himself to sitting, running a hand over his hair which he knew was probably sticking up akimbo in ten different directions if Jack's look was any indication. It was the one where Mac felt his partner was seeing him as if he were some tousled drowsy-eyed toddler and was usually followed by an annoying big brother move like Jack ruffling said hair. He cleared his throat. "Where are we?"

"We're in Louisville. I was checking out our meet-up location. Bozer's holding us a prime table in SuperChef's." Jack held out a cup, which Mac desperately hoped was coffee. "Apparently they have the country's best cup of Joe and the food smells amazing, so I hope the rest of our party shows soon or I may start without them."

"How did we get ahead of them?" Mac took the coffee, looking blearily at his watch, while attempting to work out a kink between his shoulder blades.

"I'm guessing we made good time because someone kept the stops for Big Gulps and bathroom breaks to a minimum." Jack gingerly sat in the swiveling chair closest to Mac, sliding out of his jacket and draping it over the back to dry. Mac didn't miss the way his partner still guarded his ribs, and the slight intake of breath he didn't quite mask. Jack's face was pale beneath the two days scruff, the bruises and cuts standing out more prominent but he looked much better than yesterday.

"It's not a road trip, Jack," Mac snapped, giving up his attempts at working out the knots in his muscles. He knew his irritation was born more of frustration and worry than any anger with his partner. It seemed the stormy weather outside had been customized to suit his current mood, and for once he was glad not to be in sunny LA.

"Somebody most definitely didn't get their nap out." Jack leaned forward, studying Mac. "You having more bad dreams about Treaty?"

"No." As bad as the nightmares about his horse had been, the ones about Cairo were worse. He wasn't about to dump those on his partner's shoulders. Sometimes it was much easier to lash out at the person you were afraid for than to show any other weakness. "We're on a time line if you haven't forgotten, Jack, and if you _have_ then being informed that the CID show up at Phoenix last night should be a poignant reminder."

"Trust me, kiddo. I haven't forgotten that the proverbial hourglass is counting down." Jack ran a hand over his bearded face, leaning back in his chair although his assessing stare stayed on Mac. "I know Matty's call last night put a little more pressure on us, bud, but you freaking out isn't going to help things. The Army boys were just there to talk. If they'd had enough evidence for an indictment or been planning to arrest me, things would have gone down differently."

"I'm not freaking out." Mac had to be careful not to squeeze the Styrofoam cup he was holding between his hands as Jack talked so calmly about the intentions of the CID. He took a quick drink of the coffee, appreciating the fact Jack had taken the time to doctor it just the way Mac liked it. Sure Matty's revelation that she'd been visited by the Army's criminal investigation team had sent a surge of fear sweeping through him, but he was handling it- compartmentalizing, just like always. He met Jack's all-too knowing gaze with a tired one of his own. "It's just that the fact we're fifteen hours into Briar's timeline and travelling across the country with a group of ghost busters instead of making any real headway is not exactly how I wanted things to go."

"I was hoping after Riley's intel you'd feel better about working with the Winchesters." Jack tilted his head, gesturing to the computer screen on the console behind Mac as if Riley were still somehow present even though the monitor was dark and had been for hours. He rubbed a hand over his forehead and Mac wondered if he'd remembered to take his pain medicine.

Mac couldn't stop the humorless laugh that escaped him at Jack's expectation. "And exactly what about learning both Sam and Dean Winchester were at different points in time on the FBI's most wanted list should I find comforting, man? Or maybe you think the fact that they're now both 'legally' dead and don't even exist in the eyes of the law any more should bolster my confidence in their abilities to help us?"

Jack gave a sigh, leaning forward again, his elbows resting on his knees. "I was talking about the fact that Riley used the bits and pieces you picked up on in our lengthy discussion back in Tennessee to discover more about the people we're trusting. I was hoping it might have convinced you that The Brotherhood is not a bunch of loons, or a cult, a theory I'm glad you kept to yourself."

Mac suddenly found the lid to his coffee cup interesting. He'd given Riley the details Dean and Sam had inadvertently dropped in hopes that she might offer them more insight. She didn't disappoint, easily finding the doctor Sam had mentioned in passing, as he was as renowned as Sam had assured. Dr. Mackland Ames was also the adopted father of Caleb Reaves, award-winning architect. It made sense considering Dean's mention about his 'knight' friend building bridges, but how a physician and an accomplished engineer had become involved in such a group was still a mystery. Then there was Sam Winchester himself. He'd gone to Stanford with a full ride, was currently top in his class at NYU. Mac wasn't sure if finding out more about these men lent credibility to The Brotherhood or gave more reason to be cautious around them because it was proof that intelligent, well-respected men were indeed vulnerable to falling under some sort of mass hysteria. If nothing else, it made Mac even more hesitant about their temporary alliance.

"I mean you heard Matty as well as I did, brother," Jack continued, searching Mac's gaze. "This Ames fella is some kind of legend in the field of neurology. _And_ he consults with the FBI, dude. You can't just sweep that under the rug. The current director calls him a valuable resource. Riley even recognized him as one of the men who visited her and Elwood back in the day."

"He's prized at the FBI as a psychic on kidnapping cases." Mac raised a brow, meeting Jack's determined gaze. "Since when do you buy into palm readers and fortune tellers?"

"I don't." Jack ran a hand down his mouth, letting out a long breath. "But I'm not ruling out that there are things in this world I don't understand. Hell, until I met you, I didn't believe a man could use gum and aluminum foil to pull off a freaking miracle. Half the time you're an enigma wrapped in a mystery. But you've made me a believer, kiddo. You make the impossible, possible." The words lacked their usual good natured humor but were said in such earnestness it had Mac breaking eye contact once more.

"What I use is science, Jack. Pure and simple. No magic or trickery. You're talking about a man who claims to be able to tap into psychometry." Mac thought psychology was a soft science teetering on guesswork, there was no way he could acknowledge the idea that a person could gain vital information from merely touching an object and 'feeling' the impressions it left. "Johns Hopkins graduate or not, I'm not so sure he isn't a fraud or at least delusional. Didn't Matty say he'd been injured in a horrible car accident at some point? Perhaps that damaged his brain and he's still suffering severe side effects."

"Or maybe it gave him some kind of super power?" Jack offered, seriously. "Like Daredevil or Spawn."

"Just the fact you are now comparing these men with comic book heroes has me seriously questioning whether I should have had Sam ask Dr. Ames to meet us here to check out your head. They said he was close by." Proclaimed psychic or not, the man was still a trusted member of the medical community and had saved countless lives, of that there was no dispute. "The next thing I know you'll be likening them to the X-men or the Avengers. Maybe Dean can control the elements, or Caleb can move things with his mind."

"I'm not going to lie and say that wouldn't be cool as hell but I'm guessing these guys are just good men trying to do the right thing. Take that Pastor, the one Dean mentioned." Jack snapped his fingers, trying to summon the name he'd forgotten.

"James Murphy," Mac supplied begrudgingly, recalling more of Riley's intel. Her research had painted the man as a paragon of righteousness and goodwill.

"Right." Jack nodded, a tiny bit of Bozer's earlier excitement shining in the older man's eyes. "He was a devout man of God. Ran a little parish in Kentucky of all places, beloved by his congregation. Come on, brother, he rescued race horses that were headed to the glue factory." Jack gave a sheepish smile. "This Pastor Jim sounds like a lot like our Nana Beth. Speaking of Beth, you know she'd be the first to tell you that there are some things that we mere humans can't wrap our minds around. She'd tell you that God works in mysterious ways and sometimes we just have to have faith. That's all I'm asking."

"I have faith, Jack. In _science_. In things I can prove." Mac also had faith in a select few people, the man sitting across from him first and foremost.

"Yet, you believe in Santa Clause." Jack lifted a brow, an amused smile twitching at his mouth.

"Because he can't be _disproved_." Mac realized his misstep as soon as he made it. He hated playing chess with Jack for a reason. The man never missed a move.

"Aha." Jack slapped a hand on this jean clad leg. "You also can't disprove what The Brotherhood does, dude. Maybe there are things that go bump in the night that we might never have encountered." He shrugged, a quick flash of pain crossing his face at the movement.

Mac frowned. "I have enough of a hard time keeping a lid on all the bad things we _have_ encountered, Jack. As if terrorists, traitors and rogue government agents aren't enough to keep my nightmares going, now you want to add in ghosts and goblins to the mix?" It was meant to come out in a teasing voice but it hit closer to home than Mac intended it to if the change in Jack's demeanor was a good indicator.

"The last thing I want to do is to give your big old brain more to process, bud." Jack's face turned serious and Mac feared that he'd shown his hand. He was certain his best friend had turned the tables once again, focusing on Mac's welfare when he should have been concerned for his own, as Jack's gaze softened, his tone gentling to 'Angus whisperer'. "You have enough on your plate, which is why I'm willing to team up with just about anyone to get this mess cleared up and get back to finding your dad."

"I'm not worried about James." Mac was focused on keeping his own tone neutral, working hard to keep the intense reaction from racing over his face. The coffee cup in his hand was the least of his worries and bore the brunt of his response, crushed by the onslaught of sudden emotion.

"Whoa now." Jack reached forward as Mac hissed in pain when the hot coffee sloshed over his hand and splattered to the floor of the van, along with the lid of the cup. "And here I was worried about Bozer making a mess."

The words were light, but Mac could tell from the way Jack gripped his wrist that he was as surprised as Mac by the mishap, although for an entirely different reason.

"I'm sorry." Mac muttered, uncurling the hand Jack held to let the remains of the Styrofoam slip to the floor. He skin was slightly red, but the pain was secondary to the ache pounding beneath his ribs.

"Are you hurt?"

"No." Mac gently pried his hand from Jack's, meeting his partner's gaze. He forced a half smile, he hoped hid the slight tremble in his voice. "They may have the best cup of Joe, but thankfully it was not the hottest."

"Well, for once and all that girly creamer and flavoring you liked probably spared you a second degree burn." Jack matched Mac's grin with one of his own. It looked as fake as Mac's felt. "No suing the establishment over this little accident. " Jack grabbed a stack of napkins that had been left over from Bozer and Dean's barbecue feast the night before and knelt to pressed half of them into the spots on the carpet. He handed the rest to Mac.

"I'm sorry," Mac said again, knowing he must have sounded as miserable as he felt when Jack shot him a frown. He wiped the last of the coffee from his hand and wrist, trying to get a grip.

"Dude, it's just a cup of coffee." Jack rocked back on his heels, his gaze narrowing. "I didn't mean to poke a sore spot by mentioning your dad…"

"Jack, my father is the last thing on my mind at the moment." Mac tossed the remains of the coffee cup and the soiled napkins to the trash can in the corner, his tone sharper than he intended it to be. It wasn't exactly true. Mac had thought of his father, but not in the way Jack believed. Mac was more frustrated that he'd spent almost a year searching for the man who abandoned him, only to now be facing losing the man who'd become a brother, who'd never once turned his back on him no matter what situation they faced.

"Distraction can be a good thing I suppose." Jack's grin faltered a bit. He held a hand protectively around his ribs as he stood.

"If it were you dragging me to the beach or out for a hike in one of the canyons, I might agree, but being in a situation where your fate hangs in the balance isn't exactly a welcomed diversion." Mac stood as well, needing to put some distance between them, although it was a tall order in the small space that could supposedly hold an entire SWAT team. He raked hands through his hair, wishing he had a way to go for a run. Even a hot shower would have been a welcomed reprieve from close quarters and the dread of what may lay in store for them during the rest of the day.

"It's not like our lives aren't at risk every job, brother. This is really nothing new." Jack moved back to his seat, his eyes following Mac's pacing.

"Only it is." Mac insisted with a tired sigh, pressing the palms of his hands into his eyes. There was no precedent for going after a legendary sword with a group of supernatural hunters, all while trying to find a journal that may or may not have belonged to a long dead war hero.

"Well there is the root beer waffle float Winchester was going on and on about." Jack stood with a slight wince, jerking his head towards the van door, grinning. "I can't say I've ever tried one of those, but I'm willing to give it a shot. Do you think it comes in a frosty mug?"

Mac rolled his eyes, unable to resist the chuckle at Jack's childlike exuberance. "The possibility of a new food is your only concern?"

"Well, I'd admit I'm hyped about meeting a living, breathing version of Harry Potter but I'm afraid it might send my anti-magic partner right over the edge." Jack winked at Mac. "Besides, right now my stomach is foremost in my mind."

"When isn't your stomach in charge? I think you and Dean Winchester have that in common." Mac took a deep breath, letting it out with a sigh. "That and your mutual love of destructive weapons."

Jack ignored the comment, making his way towards the door. "Now are you coming or not?"

Mac didn't see as how he had much choice in the matter. Jack opened the van to the steady downpour and Mac welcomed the dour elements as portend for their meeting. He might be hesitant to join up with The Brotherhood and undertake whatever journey they had in mind, but he sure as hell wasn't going to let Jack go alone.

RcJ

The rootbeer float did not come in a glass as Jack suspected, but was merely a waffle with a scoop of vanilla ice cream and root beer infused maple syrup. The former Delta agent hadn't been disappointed though because it was served with a side of hash browns and candied bacon, quite possibly topping his grandmother's blueberry pancakes as his new breakfast favorite. He'd eaten until he was almost sick, not willing to let Dean outdo him, and was glad they'd had to walk a ways from the parking garage to the building that housed the PR firm where they were meeting Winchester's contact.

"So, it's probably better if you don't call Josh, Harry Potter," Dean was saying, having stopped by Jack. He gestured to the downtown high rise that sat on the corner of the parallel street, across the busy intersection from them. "In fact, I wouldn't mention the fact he is any sort of witch at all. He prefers 'crafter' in our circle and tends to get his hackles up if someone suggests otherwise, especially in his place of business."

"Maybe that's because he knows there's no such thing as witches." Mac spoke up, still skeptical about this meeting leading to any useful answers. "I mean outside movies and Broadway musicals. There could also be the issue that if any of his wealthy clients were to overhear they might think he was, you know, insane."

"No," Dean shook his head, not seeming to have taken offence at Jack's partner's tendency to sound snarky and intellectually superior. Jack got the impression the younger Winchester could come across the same way and that maybe Dean had grown a thick skin. "Josh is from a long line of witches and knows better than anyone that they exist." He grinned at Mac. "He's just a pompous ass."

"Who happens to be our Advisor and close friend," Sam interjected curtly, bumping his brother. He narrowed his gaze. "I thought we were going to focus on the logistics of tracking down the sword and not so much the other side of our business as it tends to make people uncomfortable."

Jack had wondered why their breakfast conversation had been somewhat stilted, and limited to him and Dean mostly discussing their cars and baseball while the others interjected now and again. He wondered if the Guardian had been handed down a list of 'safe topics' for chit chat as they waited for the early morning appointment they had been granted with Joshua Sawyer.

"Gotcha." Dean looked pointedly at Mac, who was watching the traffic whip past them. Louisville was not LA, but it was still bustling. Jack was grateful the rain had stopped as they waited for the crosswalk sign to change that would allow them to reach the office building. A cold wind made him shiver, his ribs protesting loudly against the sudden movement.

"Sorry, James Blonde," Winchester continued. "I know all of this is a little hard to swallow for a Brainiac like yourself. Sam's research said you were like some kind of kid genius, even smarter than him, not to mention having a hell of service record." Dean's gaze shifted briefly to the traffic light in front of them before going back to Mac. "Thanks for that by the way." He nodded to include Jack. "Both of you. My dad was a marine."

"Dean." Sam cleared his throat, sending a searching look to Reaves.

"What?" Dean rolled his eyes, shrugging. "You don't think they've found out everything they could about us? They're spies, Sam. I'm guessing they know the names of the last two women I slept with and your favorite choice of porn."

"I don't have a favorite choice of porn." Sam seethed through clenched teeth.

"He's right, you know," Jack interrupted hoping to head off an argument that might cause them to miss out on the 'walk' opportunity. Mac was biting at the bit enough as it was, being late for their meeting with a man who could possibly shed some light on their next lead was not something Jack wanted to add to the kid's worry. "About the research part, not the whole us knowing your brother's sex life and your misfortunate lack of one." He grinned when Sam rolled his eyes in a very 'Mac-like' manner. "We did find the arrest records-nice mug shots by the way."

"So you understand _those_ wanted men were killed while in custody of an FBI agent." Caleb spoke up for the first time in a while, his gaze pointedly meeting Jack's.

"We do." Jack nodded, understanding the other man's desire to keep that bit of false news alive and well in the system. "Just like we know you're some fancy architect and avant-garde artist who came from rough beginnings. It's why Bozer was staring at you with the same glow in his eye as your buddy Dean had for that honking big steak he had on his plate."

"Shut up, Jack." Bozer said, his face reflecting his embarrassment at being outed as a Caleb Reaves fan. He shrugged one shoulder as Caleb favored him with a raised brow.

"You like my work?"

"So I might have seen your one and only show in LA. I got the tickets as part of a contest I won for one of my short films." Bozer's eyes twinkled. "Your paintings were amazing, man. The dragons were fierce. I had nightmares about them."

"You should see one in person." Caleb smiled, shooting Dean a look.

"And on that note," Sam cleared his throat, gesturing to the sign that had just changed to give them the right of way. "We should walk."

"Your buddy Joshua not take tardiness well either?" Jack asked as they hurried across ahead of the impatient traffic.

"He wouldn't if we had an actual appointment." Dean called over his shoulder. "Which he doesn't tend to give us."

"With Josh, we've learned the element of surprise works best." Caleb added as they made it to the other side. "He tends to like to keep clear boundaries between his so called 'normal life' and his alter ego on the Triad."

"See my earlier point about his clientele," Mac muttered, looking only slightly contrite when Jack arched an eyebrow.

"So he's like a public relations guru. Does he have any favorite clients?" Jack asked curiously, keeping an arm pressed around his middle at their fast pace.

"Halley Berry." Sam quickly answered, a gleam in his dark eyes.

"Halley Berry's nice, but does he happen to know my man, Bruce Willis?"

"Josh is more into helping business moguls and prominent politicians keep their images squeaky clean." Dean held the door to the building open as the others walked through, his eyes lingering for a moment on Jack. "As our friend Bobby is fond of saying, he could sale space heaters to a man set adrift on a floating hunk of ice in the middle of the Arctic Ocean."

"So if he's so good at bull shitting, how do we know he's going to feed us good intel?" Jack asked as he was the last through the entrance. He hung back for Dean to catch up.

"Because when it comes to Brotherhood business, Josh isn't interested in blowing smoke up anyone's ass."

"Least of all, Deuce." Caleb reached out and punched the elevator up button. Jack didn't miss the amused grin he exchanged with Sam. "Calling the Guardian on all his crap is pretty much the bulk of an Advisor's position. Josh lives to rain on Deuce's parades."

"I don't recall reading about an advisory position in our files on your organization." Mac frowned.

""Every team needs a secret weapon, kid." Dean smirked as they climbed on the elevator. "Josh likes to believe he's ours."

"And their roles tend to be highly suspect in some generations due in part to poor choices by some past members." Sam cleared his throat, when Jack gave him a sidelong glance. "Not Joshua, of course," he added with a forced smile that did nothing to relieve Jack's concern. "He's an excellent Advisor."

"Says his good buddy and pal," Dean snorted, punching the number seven button three times as if by his sheer persistence he could make the cart move faster. "Sammy's a suckup."

Jack glanced at Caleb who raised his hands. "Don't look at me. I'm just the guy's brother."

"Step-brother," Dean corrected, his gaze briefly resting on Bozer who still had a look of childish excitement and awe on his face but had kept quiet so far.

"Blood ties or not, me being the younger, better looking, by far favored son hasn't exactly helped our relationship. He's totally jealous of me. Rightfully so." Caleb ran a hand through his dark hair, his mouth twitching. "Even his wife likes me better."

"And your boy Joshua's the pompous one of the bunch?" Jack arched a brow, to which Dean only sighed, punching the number seven again.

"I know with Damien's ego taking up all the room in here, it's a stretch, but in The Brotherhood we embrace the old saying seeing is believing."

"That's actually a motto I could get behind," Mac quipped, crossing his arms over his chest.

When the elevator finally opened directly into the foyer of the Public Relations firm, Jack gave a low whistle at the opulent décor and over the top grandeur that greeted them. Everything screamed high dollar clientele and Jack could understand the points Mac had been making about this Sawyer not wanting to seem peculiar to the upper crusts to which he so obviously catered.

"Don't be too impressed. Joshua's mom has class for days," Dean explained, nodding to the tasteful surroundings as he approached a glass door with gold lettering. "His guy Friday, Drew, is also as gay as a man purse full of glitter and unicorns. His flair for interior design is matched only by his lack of discretion when it comes to his appreciation for anyone with a Y chromosome." He cut his gaze to Mac, giving a grin. "Fair warning, JB, he loves blonds."

Jack wasn't sure if watching his partner be hit on by Joshua Sawyer's assistant was the most amusing thing he'd witnessed that day or if it was literally observing every ounce of color drain from Sawyer's face only to be replaced with a hue he'd not seen on a human which Jack could only describe as puce as Dean Winchester introduced them.

"Is this some kind of bizarre prank?" Joshua looked around his grand office, his hand self-consciously going to the Hermes tie he was wearing with what Jack suspected might have been a Kiton suit. He was aware of the designer only because he'd once worn one undercover for a mission and Matty had threatened him within an inch of his life to not get blood stains on it because it was going back to Neiman Marcus in pristine condition or the ten grand plus change was coming out of Jack's next paycheck. "Are you getting revenge for my not backing your ridiculous idea to have a hoe down and handout commemorative brass knuckles and that hideous homebrewed beer you and Caleb have been making on the one year anniversary of your Triad's coronation?"

"Despite the fact I'm still pissed at your thumbs down on the party, this is a legit visit, Josh." Dean waved a hand to encompass Jack and Mac, Bozer too. "This is Agent Jack Dalton and his partner Angus MacGyver. The two secret spies I told you about months ago."

"The ones who you _claimed_ to have assisted in a government operation across the border in Mexico." If possible, Sawyers face colored more. Jack could see the guy was probably a few years older than Reaves, but more polished. He had the same GQ looks as his step-brother without any of the 'kick ass' vibe, like CEO material or possibly a contestant on The Bachelor. "I thought you were joking about that!" Sawyer bit out, as he waved a hand at Winchester. "That possibly you and Caleb were engaged in some sort of childish game to see who could come up with the worst possible case scenario to cast oneself in so to make my life even more miserable, like when you create those ridiculous Instagram stories of 'hunts gone bad'."

"So just to be clear, if that had been a game, then Sam and Deuce aiding government agents would have so trumped my theoretically attending that whole witch's council thing last month as Sida's date, the one you told me not to go to, right?" Caleb raised his hand, looking completely innocent.

"NO!" Joshua practically shouted. "They both would have been equally unthinkable, complete derelictions of duty, not to mention putting the integrity of The Brotherhood at risk."

"Good thing _mine_ was at least hypothetical." Caleb jerked his thumb towards Jack and Mac. "Those two are all on Deuce. You know he's always had a Roger Moore complex."

"Actually my favorite Bond is Daniel Craig, and Sam was the one to figure out MacGyver's magic taillight." Dean crossed his arms over his chest, rolling his eyes. "I just followed the car to the cartel guy's house and waited for Dalton's tactical team to arrive."

"And the grenade launcher?" Joshua pinched the bridge of his nose, looking as if he were losing his battle to stay calm. "Was that real, too?"

All eyes went to Jack and he felt the sudden urge to claim some kind of defense. "The kid saved my boy's life from a bloodthirsty drug lord who thought waterboarding was a fun conversation starter. I might have given him the nuclear codes if I had that kind of clearance and he'd asked for them."

Joshua shook his head at Jack and turned his gaze on Dean once more. "I can almost understand you falling into a government operation by accident considering yours and Samuel's penchant for trouble, rescuing Agent MacGyver falls somewhat in our sworn duty to protect the innocent from all forms of evil, but I have no idea what would possess you bring these government agents to my office on a workday?" His eyes narrowed. "The first time around you claimed to have maintained some semblance of cover, but considering you've breeched my inner sanctum and used my actual name, am I to assume you have revealed all our secrets? Perhaps taken them on a tour of Jim's farm, welcomed them into the Tomb?"

Joshua's voice had edge up in volume with each ground word and Jack was quite sure he might have hit shouting level if not for the quick knock at his door which heralded Drew bearing a tray of coffee and sparkling water. Sam took the distraction as an opportunity to pull their irate friend aside, speaking in hushed tones as Drew served drinks and batted his lashes at Mac.

"I'm starting to get the whole Advisor thing," Bozer said under his breath as he sipped at his Evian. "This Josh is Matty, only with more lung capacity and a thicker Thesaurus."

Jack snorted. "And a better wardrobe."

"I pick out his clothes." Drew spoke up, startling Jack. He'd thought the man had left, but found him still standing by Mac, his smile wolfish. "His wife, Carolyn, is a dear, but is a bit frumpish. Think mild mannered librarian meets geek-chic. She likes Target and consignment stores."

Jack's mouth twitched and he had to hide a laugh behind a cough, when Drew looked Mac up and down, obviously appraising more than his apparel. "I appreciate a man in a leather jacket as much as anyone, but I bet I could work wonders for your wardrobe, cowboy. I freelance as a personal shopper on the side."

"That will be enough moonlighting, Drew." Joshua's worn voice interrupted any reply Mac might have stammered out much to Jack's displeasure. Watching his partner politely turn down the offer to let Drew play in his closet might have been so much fun. "Could you please cancel my nine o'clock this morning and close the door on your way out."

Drew shrugged, obviously nonplussed by his boss's reprimand. "Stop by my desk on _your_ way out, and I'll get your sizes." He winked at Mac, lowering his voice. "I can probably guess your measurements but it's always more fun to pull out my tape."

"You'll have to forgive Drew's exuberance, as well as my lack of manners." Joshua walked away from Sam, extending his hand to first, Jack and then Mac. He turned to Bozer last. "I'm not sure I caught your name."

"I'm Bozer." Bozer shook Sawyer's hand, pointing a thumb in Mac's and Jack's direction. "I'm their behind the scenes, guy."

"Ah." Joshua actually smiled, though Jack easily detected the wariness in his blue gaze. "That I can understand completely. You probably work three times as hard and receive none of the glory."

"Something like that." Bozer shot Jack a deep frown before refocusing on Sawyer. "I came to the secret agent thing a little late in the game. I don't even get to carry a gun."

"That's okay, Bozer," Dean interrupted, crossing his arms. "Josh didn't get his initiation into our club until he was an ol'timer. Most of us get our rings at eighteen, you were what…" Dean tilted his head as if he couldn't quite remember, raising a brow in mock question. "Mid-twenties?"

"I was about to ask how I could possibly be any assistance in this matter, but if you'd rather discuss past grievances perhaps you could just go and…"

"We would really like you to offer your assistance, Sawyer." Jack took a step towards the PR guru, reclaiming his attention from the eldest Winchester. He got the impression The Guardian was about to open a can of worms that might cost them more precious time. As interesting as The Brotherhood dynamic was turning out to be, Jack could feel his best friend's patience wearing thin and if he was honest with himself he still didn't feel one hundred percent. He'd promised the kid this was going to work out and he wasn't about to let Mac down. "Anything you might do would be greatly appreciated."

"That's just the thing, Agent Dalton. Even after Sam's quick debriefing, I'm at a loss as to how The Brotherhood could possibly aid in this endeavor." His blue eyes hardened as he rubbed a finger over his brow. "In fact, I find it quite likely that we would be the ones paying for any help we might offer."

"You'll have to excuse Josh." Reaves inserted himself into the conversation, shifting his weight away from the desk he had leaned against so far. "His wife's expecting and he's been under a lot of stress at home. He's somehow gotten the impression he gets to call the shots on who we do and don't help."

"A hormonal Carolyn is the last of my concerns at this point," Joshua growled, shooting a narrow look in Reaves's direction. "Especially considering The Knight seems to have forgotten his place in protecting all that we hold sacred and I may be called upon to institute an entirely new Triad after the current one is sent to CIA prison on the outskirts of Siberia!"

"You told him about the CIA?" Dean snapped at his brother, face darkening.

"No one is going to prison, Dude." Jack stepped between Sawyer and Reaves who seemed quite likely to deck his step brother for the slam on his leadership abilities. Jack could empathize with the guy's plight of trying to keep a team safe and the bashing ones pride took when his judgment was called into question, but he couldn't let Caleb take his Advisor down a few notches, not when they needed him conscious. He looked at Joshua, suppressing the urge to brace an arm around his ribs when he felt a painful twinge. "Except for maybe me. That is if you and your buddies can't help. I know we really have no right to ask, but Dean thinks this could be a mutual pay off in the end."

Joshua sighed, folding his arms over his chest. "And why would The Guardian believe that? What exactly do you think our particular talents could actually bring to the table? Your partner's rescue, however fortuitous, was not in our usual scope of work. I dare say, on a typical day, The Brotherhood and your Phoenix Foundation would never cross paths."

"Yet, from our research it seems members of your organization have been in extremely powerful positions throughout modern history, even holding presidential office if I'm not mistaken?" Mac surprised Jack by backing him up. His partner came alongside, giving Joshua one of his challenging raised brows. "I'm not sure I quite believe the scope to which it appears your influence reaches, but I also can't deny that The Brotherhood seemingly has its fingers in several pies and that you all could be in a unique position to offer the insight we're needing."

"What insight might that be?"

"We need to find Patton's Sword." Dean was the one to answer, looking from his brother back to Sawyer. "Sammy's research linked its last whereabouts to a coven, a powerful witch called Dresden, so we figured you might be able to shed some light."

Joshua's gaze narrowed and he glared at Dean, stopping himself from wildly gesticulating by crossing his arms once more over his chest. "I supposed you revealed to these gentlemen why that might be the case?"

"Don't worry, Josh, they don't believe in witches or crafting." Dean waved a hand in Jack and Mac's direction. "The kid won't even discuss your alchemy theories so don't even try. Even if they did buy into your magical legacy, it's not like they're going to reinstate the Salem trials so I think your secret's safe with them."

Joshua sent another glower Dean's way before pinching the bridge of his nose with another heavy sigh. folded his arms over his chest. "How is finding this sword beneficial to us, let alone worth the risk you so flippantly seem to be taking?"

"We think it might help us find who killed Merrill," Sam answered, stopping whatever Sawyer was about to say cold.

"Turns out there was a reason we've hit a hell of a snag in tracking down the people who did it," Dean offered, absently twisting his ring. "It's definitely not looking like our run of the mill killers."

"Until Riley picked up all the chatter on the Dark Web about the journal, we were flying blind," Caleb added, having relaxed back against the desk. "The inquiries into its whereabouts is what put us on a collision course with these two."

"Wait," Bozer interrupted, bouncing. "You guys have a Riley, too?"

"Not important, Boze," Jack warned with a tired sigh. His headache was making a return appearance and he couldn't help noticing Mac was fidgeting more than usual. He expected his partner to call a quits on their tentative alliance at any moment.

"I'm guessing the particular journal they're needing is one that was taken from Merrill's house?" Josh looked from Dean to Caleb. "Along with the other items you discovered during your investigation?" He ran a hand though his hair. "This is exactly why I encouraged you to continue Pastor Jim's mission to collect the journals and objects of power in one central location and…"

"I'm not sure now is the time to open the floor to old business, Josh," Caleb sighed, his brow furrowed when his gaze briefly landed on Jack. "It's not like we're having one of your mandatory board meetings."

"The journal is the only thing that _we_ need," Mac insisted emphatically, restlessly curling and uncurling his hands. "At least we hope it's the same journal. There's some confusion over that currently."

"Then you're most definitely barking up the wrong tree, Agent." Joshua gestured to Dean and Caleb. "I've been pushing them for months to put an end to this bleak matter with Merrill, but they've had no leads. Expecting them to produce the journal now is optimistic to say the least."

"Thanks for the glowing vote of confidence." Caleb shook his head.

"I'm only reiterating the trouble you two have had in bringing justice to our fellow hunter, a slight that will not go unnoticed by our contemporaries I can assure you."

"Sorry if we've left the potential PR time bomb ticking away, Josh," Dean snapped and Jack felt the tension in the room shift again. "But the trail wasn't exactly typical and we were dancing around a police investigation with all the great care you insist we take not to draw more attention to ourselves."

"But we think the Sword will lead us to the journal," Sam spoke up, hopefully. "Then ultimately to the men responsible for Merrill's death if it's truly their end game. It's a mutually beneficial endeavor for everyone. Surely you can see that."

"What I see is a potential for disaster." Joshua frowned at Jack and Mac. "I can empathize with your plight, but my first allegiance is to The Brotherhood. I can't-won't-do anything to risk the Triad."

"I can promise you that you're men aren't at risk from us. As far as I'm concerned, we're just getting a little assistance from some of my old cop buddies from Texas." Jack threw a grin in Dean's direction. "I gotta say they had me fooled, despite not exactly fitting the vice cop profile. Besides, this isn't exactly an official government mission. We're working mostly off the books ourselves."

"I'm not sure that should make me feel better about the situation, see my earlier note the Siberian prison." Joshua turned to Mac. "And you're willing to follow this trail extremely 'off book' because if the sword is where I believe it might be, you will be dealing with a much more 'traditional' witch than what you've encountered so far."

"Meaning what exactly? He won't be wearing a designer suit and tie?" Mac matched Joshua's stance, crossing his arms, eyes narrowed in skepticism.

"Will he have a magic wand?" Bozer piped up, having kept more quiet than Jack would have thought possible. "Because that would be really cool."

" _She_ ," Sawyer emphasized, "Will undoubtedly expect a payment for her time. That is if she even agrees to a meeting." His serious gaze went to Dean. "It could mean you will once more be beholden to a coven who has never fully embraced the treaty we've tried to forge over the last year."

"How about I promise not to let Damien hook up with her?" Dean smirked, though Jack could see it was a little forced. "Is that what you're worried about?"

"Considering she's my grandmother's contemporary, I'm not sure there is too much reason for concern in that arena." Jack didn't miss the look of disdain Sawyer shot his step brother, or the chuckle it heralded from Reaves. "She'll be more likely to want to exact some leverage from The Guardian and that could cause unrest with those who have aligned themselves with us."

"What if we explain to her that she could be in danger from the men looking for the sword," Sam moved to his brother's side, undoubtedly trying to be the voice of reason. "It's possible that if Mac's team was able to draw a connection to The Brotherhood that these others may do the same. They could follow the trail to Dresden and after what they were willing to do to Merrill, I don't think they're going to be polite in their inquiries."

"And if that doesn't work I could always explain to her that Patton's sword technically belongs to _us_ seeing as 'what' it's made from and 'who' allegedly made it for him." All humor had vanished from Dean's face, leaving the serious air of the Guardian of The Brotherhood

Jack noticed Mac shot him a look at Winchester's veiled references to the sword's origins. He shrugged, hoping his best friend let the elusive comments slide, marking them up as just another facet they didn't need to explore and that it was frankly none of their business. Jack exhaled slowly, giving in to the urge to rub at his temple to ease some of the painful throbbing.

"If she gives it back," Winchester continued, his voice hardening. "I won't consider her keeping it as collusion against The Brotherhood or an act of aggression on her coven's part."

"This is exactly why I don't trust you to handle delicate matters with the diplomacy needed." Joshua's gaze zeroed in on Jack. "And a prime example as why he doesn't need access to anymore weapons of mass destruction."

"How about I offer to keep the kid in check," Jack wagered. He jerked a thumb towards Mac. "I've got plenty of experience in potentially explosive situations thanks to my partner's penchant for blowing things up left and right. I think I can keep a lid on this meet and greet. Self-control is practically my middle name."

"Somehow I find that hard to believe." Joshua's frown deepened, his look doubtful. "No offense, Agent Dalton, but you look much more the 'muscle' type and of course there is your penchant for handing out grenade launchers willy-nilly."

"He has your number, Jack," Bozer said under his breath, mumbling something about the truth hurting when Jack glared at him.

"I'd rather you and your associates steer clear of the situation entirely, although I'm sure any request for you to stand down completely would not be heeded. But surely you understand that the less our two worlds collide, the better." Joshua looked from Dean and Caleb to Jack once more, straightening. "Which is why I must ask that you wait outside while I make the arrangements needed to ensure this fool-hearty endeavor."

Jack didn't budge, instead moving his gaze to Dean. The Guardian didn't look pleased about the turn of events, but surprisingly he wasn't objecting to their dismissal. Jack remembered Bozer's suggestion that The Brotherhood's Advisor was a bit like Matty and decided that maybe Winchester was playing his cards close to his vest and knew exactly what battles to pick with his prickly friend. When he met Jack's gaze after sharing a glance with his brother and Reaves, he gave a nod.

"How about we catch up with you boys in the parking garage, Bourne? Maybe you need to check in with Money Penny." Dean inclined his head to Sawyer. "Josh will get us co-ordinates and we'll be on the road in no time flat."

"The sooner the better," Mac answered before Jack could. He gave a curt nod to Joshua and then motioned Bozer to precede him out the door before following their teammate.

Jack offered Sawyer a slight grin and a salute. "It's been a pleasure, Potter."

He could still hear the man's indignant sputtering when he closed the door and made his way into the outer office. Mac had slyly avoided Drew, he and Bozer all the way to the elevator even before Jack had cleared the exit. Both men were unusually solemn as they entered the cart and it wasn't until Mac had punched the button taken them to the lobby of the building that he turned his blue gaze on Jack.

"You're not seriously considering that we attend this meet up? With a witch? At a coven? What does that even look like by the way?"

"You come up with a new lead and forget to mention it, brother?" Jack understood they were working way beyond their scope of comfort, and considering the shenanigans they pulled on a regular basis that was saying a lot, but his gut was telling him they were on the right track. Jack casually leaned against the wall of the elevator, thankful to have a little support even if it was for just a short moment. He exhaled slowly, trying to stay focused and calm.

"No," Mac muttered, glumly. He shot an accusatory look to Bozer who had the good graces to slink slightly behind Jack as they exited the ground floor and made their way out of the building. "I just think this whole line on the sword is a huge waste of our resources. It's insane. We've burned through half of Briar's timeline with no solid lead to show for it." Mac sounded on edge, his tone tense. Jack knew from experience that it was easier to focus on anger then acknowledging the numbing fear that lay underneath it. He still couldn't quite understand how this whole thing had gone FUBAR in the blink of an eye. Just a couple of days ago he and Mac had been planning their trip to Texas.

Jack was grateful the street was not as crowded now, although he wasn't as happy about the return of the steady rain he no doubt had to thank for the cleared intersection. They crossed without waiting and he kept quiet, knowing that he didn't have any decent rebuttal for his partner's rant. Jack shared a glance with Bozer as Mac pulled ahead of them, power walking towards the mostly empty lot which held only their surveillance van and a few other sedans.

"I've not seen him this worked up in a while," Bozer admitted quietly, his face etched with genuine concern.

"I…" Jack started, intending to offer assurance to his other teammate only to have the revving of an engine and the squeal of tires to his right cut him off. It was ironic that Jack was about to promise Bozer he'd take care of Mac, because at that moment a black van rounded the corner, screeching to a stop directly in their path, cutting them off from his partner. Jack drew his gun just as the sliding doors opened and three men in tactical gear piled out, all armed with assault rifles. The driver was dressed in a suit, dark mirrored glasses hiding his eyes.

"Who the hell are you?" Jack snapped, stepping in front of Bozer as he pointed his weapon at who he assumed was one of Briar's rogue CIA cronies although he had no clue as to how they have found them. He was mindless of the guns he knew were trained on him, his eyes focused on his best friend who just now rounded the corner in the grip of one of the big Russians Jack was certain he had tangled with while he was confined in the CIA holding cell. His mind barely had time to compute that Briar had enlisted the enemy in his service before he registered Mac's distress. The kid's lip was cut, his chin smeared with blood and he was sporting a fresh red fist-sized mark across his cheek which promised to be a spectacular shade of purple all too soon. The kid would have one hell of a black eye. Mac looked dazed, blinking rapidly as he was practically drug off his feet.

"What is this?" Jack demanded, his tone promising to rain hell down if the answers didn't come quickly.

"You can call me Smith." The suit took a step towards Jack, a smug grin in place. "Mike Briar sends his regards and requests an update on your progress in your joint business venture. Consider this a friendly check in."

"Mike Briar can go fuck himself." Jack kept the gun trained on the front man, though he jerked his head to the goon holding Mac, his gut twisting when he heard his partner's muffled groan. "You boys now using federal prisoners of war to do your dirty work? That's low even for Briar."

"My team and I were actually transporting a high valued Russian target to a more secure location when a superior instructed that I drop in and check another operation." The suit removed his glasses, used the tail of his suit coat to clean them. He glanced over his shoulder at the Russian, who now had one beefy arm wrapped tightly around Mac's neck. "It's not my fault if somehow during transport the prisoner escaped and there was an unfortunate 'incident'."

"The only incident is going to be me putting a bullet in Boris's brain if he doesn't get his hands off the kid." Jack ground his teeth as the big Russian gave him a lascivious grin, leaning his lips close to Mac's ear. Whatever he said was whispered, but Jack could easily read his best friend's face, the kid paled, struggled fruitlessly against the monster of a man. Jack was amazed his tone remained neutral. He even managed to sound bored despite the fury that rolled over him when Mac's eyes locked with his, rare fear roiling through the blue gaze. "Tell him to let my partner go-now. Mac's particular about his jacket and blood and gray matter are a bitch to get out."

"Agent MacGyver will be released when I have the report Briar wants." Smith put his glasses back on, and Jack wanted to wipe the smug-assed grin from the rogues agent face.

"Fine. Have it your way." Jack gave a shrug, tightening his grip on the gun, every intention of putting a bullet through the man's sweet spot. "Mac can wash his damn hair and have the jacket cleaned."

"Hastiness on your part wouldn't end well for Mr. Bozer." Smith looked to where Bozer was standing, his hands held high as two of the tactical team had their rifles trained on him He pushed his glasses a little higher. "Briar believes MacGyver is pertinent to the success of your mutual endeavor, but said nothing about any other casualties. In fact, he worried a lab tech might slow your progress. He'll be dead before you can put our prisoner down."

"Jack," Mac's voice was pleading. Jack understood his partner's single worry was now for Bozer, his struggles renewed as he tried to free himself.

"Briar didn't say we couldn't hurt MacGyver," The lead operator cocked a brow when Jack seemed to hesitate, showing a perfect line of white teeth in a cold smile. "Only not to kill him."

Boris drove home the point by tightening his grip on Mac, nearly pulling the younger man up onto his tiptoes as he cut off the kid's oxygen. Jack swore under his breath as Mac choked, his face quickly turning red as he pulled against the big, meaty arm that was preventing him from getting eough air.

"Fine." Jack growled deep in his throat, lowering his weapon only fractionally. "What the hell does Briar want to know? I have a lead. I'm currently following it up. He'll get his damn journal as soon as I have it in my hands."

"Why are you in Kentucky?" The suit demanded, losing any pretenses of his friendly intel gathering. "Briar had no reason to believe the journal was even in this country, let alone in some Podunk city."

"That's not really a surprise considering Briar can barely find his own dick when he goes for a piss," Jack snarled, fighting off the panic he felt as he watched Mac's continued struggles. His heart pounded against his chest, demanding he do something to protect his partner. "He sent us to do his fucking dirty work for a reason. Now tell your comrade to let my boy go before he destroys the brain cells that Briar is counting on to get him his precious book."

"Who are those men you were meeting with?" The man motioned to Boris who loosened his arm marginally. The kid sagged slightly, but seemed to still be having a hard time breathing, his toes barely finding purchase on the ground.

"Some boys I served with in Delta." Jack lied quickly, daring to send another desperate gaze his partner's way.

A quick, evil grin crossed the Russian's face before he rammed a meaty fist into Mac's side, drawing a choked cry from the younger man.

"I am going to kill you." Jack snarled, his finger twitching to pull the trigger.

"Focus, Dalton," Smith chided.

Jack returned his burning gaze to Smith. "Why does Briar care who I ask for an assist as long as I get his dirty little job done?"

"He likes to know the players on the field, just in case he needs to make a last minute substitution."

"Tell him I can handle my own damn team, and if he wants me to continue to play the game, pick up a damn phone the next time."

"Or what?" Smith actually laughed.

Jack opened his mouth to outline the very painful place he was going to shove the guy's sunglasses when one of the bastard's tactical team started to wheeze. Jack glanced his way, noting the man's face had colored, turning a similar shade to Mac's when Boris was choking the life out of him. It wasn't long before the other two were suffering from similar states as if the suffocation was somehow suddenly contagious.

"What the…? Traddock? Keller?" The CIA operator stepped closer to his men, his gaze momentarily swinging to Jack as if he had done something to the three men who had now dropped their weapons and were clawing desperately at their throats, making terrified chocking sounds. Jack must have looked as confused as he felt because the suit turned to Bozer. "What did you do?"

"Don't look at me?" Bozer quickly lowered his hands, stepping forward to pick up the discarded rifles before moving once more behind Jack. "I'm just a lowly lab tech, remember?"

"Is there a problem here, Dalton?" Jack whirled to see Reaves, his grip around his gun tightening for a heartbeat in reflex. The Brotherhood's Knight moved alongside him with all the stealth of one of his special ops team, his gaze never leaving the three men that were now convulsing on the ground. Caleb cast a brief glance to Mac. "Friend of yours, kid? He's standing awfully close and I don't know about you but I'm all about my personal bubble."

Mac had barely met Caleb's gaze, shaking his head as much as he was able, when Boris was releasing him, grabbing his own head as he howled in pain. Mac fell to his knees, scuttling away from his captor who was now bent double in obvious pain. The kid's hands went to his throat as he dragged in one labored breath and then another. Jack didn't know what the hell was going on, but he forced himself to keep his gun trained on Smith instead of rushing to his partner's side.

"Who are you?" Smith whirled on Reaves as Boris suddenly stopped screaming, his massive Dewayne Johnson body dropping to the ground with a thud that seemed to reverberate off the concrete walls of the parking structure. Confusion and good old fashioned terror warred for center stage on the CIA operator's smug face.

"Wrong question." Caleb took a step forward, placing himself between Jack and the other man, a cocky grin on his face. "You see, this is usually where smart people ask **w** _ **hat**_ I am, not 'who' as they don't seem to care so much about proper introductions once their oxygen has been cut off and their brains start to liquefy."

Jack looked from Caleb to Smith who had wisely begun to back his way towards the van, his concern for his downed men fleeing under what was clearly his sense of self-preservation kicking in. He fumbled for the door handle, scrambling to get away from Reaves advancement.

The man's tactical team was still writhing, but Boris…he wasn't moving. Considering the trickle of blood Jack could see coming from the big Russian's nose and ears and the bastard's vacant stare, he was guessing the man was dead. He found he was actually okay with that considering the damage he'd done to Mac and the enjoyment he and his buddies had taken in beating Jack senseless when they were roomies back in the CIA holding cell.

"Trust me when I say you really don't want the answer to either question." Caleb gestured to the tactical team who now appeared freed from their choke holds. "I'd make a quick exit if I were you, before I change my mind and decide to brief you in full including further demonstration of what I can do."

The men started crawling towards the van, only Smith's barked order to retrieve the Russian preventing them from jumping inside. As it was, they gave Reaves a wide berth as it took them all to drag the body forward, where they struggled to dump the big Russian on the floor of the van before practically climbing over their prisoner to make it inside.

"Briar's not going to like this." Smith informed Jack from safely inside the van.

"See my earlier note about Mike," Jack slid his gun back into his holster as Smith peeled away, disappearing as quickly as he had showed. He didn't give the retreating men another glance as he went straight to Mac. The kid actually crab-walked back away from Jack when the older agent dropped to his knees in front of the younger man, noticeably not really with it.

"Easy now." Jack held his hands out, as if he were approaching a spooked animal. Mac's eyes held a hint of wildness and more than a fair share of hurt. "It's just me."

"Jack." Mac blinked, halting his retreat. The deer-in-the-headlights-look vanished from his partner's face, but when his eyes met Jack's the kid still looked a bit dazed. "What just happened?"

"Well now." Jack gently laid one hand on his partner's shoulder, slyly pressing two fingers to his boy's throat to find a pulse that was racing. "I think Caleb just proved that the Force is strong in his family."

"What?" Mac frowned at the Star Wars reference, observably struggling a bit with catching his breath, as well as processing the bizarre event that had just taken place. It was probably too soon to quip.

"How about you just focus on taking in some air, kiddo." Jack winced right along with Mac as his fingers brushed over the huge bruise above his cheek. As Jack expected, the kid's eye was already puffy and swelling. "This doesn't look that great, bud. Anything cracked or broken?"

"I've had worse." Mac sucked in another breath, pulling away slightly when Jack brushed a thumb over the cut on his lip, clearly fighting to get his bearings.

"Yeah, I know you have." Jack ran a hand over Mac's hair, making the motion seem like he needed to get a look at the kid's pupils, but hoping to offer some kind of comfort with the familiar big brother move that Mac always pretended to take offense to. Concussion wasn't out of the question, as he'd taken a few hits from old Boris himself and knew exactly that it was a bit like being pummeled with a sledge hammer. Relieved at finding no signs of head trauma, Jack rocked back on his heels, his gut churning. He forced a grin for his partner, his guilt at not protecting the kid making it an extreme effort. There was also the fact this entire mess was his fault. "But I still take it personally whenever there's any of your blood spilled. You know what a perfectionist I am."

"He okay?" Bozer's voice came from behind Jack, quiet and worried. "Do we need to call Matty and get an exfil?"

"No!" Mac was instantly trying to get to his feet, nearly falling face forward as he made it to standing, his face paling. "I'm fine. We don't have time for that."

"Nice." Jack caught Mac, shaking his head at Bozer, who was still casually holding three assault rifles in broad daylight. The parking garage was out of the way and it was still before nine, but patrons would more than likely be arriving soon. "Maybe ditch the guns, man, before someone spots you and reports us as a terror threat."

Bozer sighed, looking from Mac to the weapons in his hands before meeting Jack's gaze. "And what pray tell do you expect me to do with them?"

"Take them to the van for now. We'll give them to Reaves later. A present for the save." Jack nodded to where Caleb was talking on his cell phone, more than likely speaking with one of the Winchesters if his grim face and hushed tone was any indication. "I'm sure The Guardian will appreciate the gesture."

"And Mac?" Bozer queried.

"I'm good," Mac once more assured hoarsely. He tried to stand straight, but was favoring his left side

Jack wasn't so sure Mac was anywhere near 'good'. He could feel the slight tremors that ran through his partner's frame. The kid seemed to be breathing better, but Jack wanted to check him over to be sure.

"Everything okay?" Caleb asked as he finished the call to find the three men staring at him, a concerned frown on his face. He nodded to Mac, who was looking less than steady as he leaned into Jack's hold. It was a move that made Jack's gut twist even more. Mac didn't show weakness so openly, especially not when it wasn't just the inner sanctum of their team. His boy was hurting.

"Did you kill him?" Mac asked, his eyes going to the puddle of blood where 'Boris' had fallen.

Reaves glanced away for a moment, giving a sigh Jack understood all too well. "The big man was planning on doing more than just choking you, kid. He was going to give a hell of show of snapping your neck in front of your buddy, Dalton."

"How do you know that?" Mac pulled himself straighter, bringing his hand to his throat once more where Jack could make out the start of some impressive bruising. Mac's breathlessness was worrisome enough, the marks only adding to the list of worst case scenarios torturing Jack's mind.

"The same way I knew what Dalton was thinking back in the van earlier." Caleb grinned, running a hand through his hair. "Do you really want me to go into specifics?"

"No." Mac shook his head, blinking when his vision seemed to blur with the movement. Jack reacted instantly, reaching out to place an arm around Mac's waist. "Probably not," the kid added, resignedly.

"I don't care how you knew, or how exactly you just pulled off what you did, but I damn sure do appreciate it." Jack looked to from Mac to Caleb. The kid however would _not_ appreciate what Jack was going to propose. There was no way he would be talking the stubborn ass into going to an ER, not with what had just gone down. Their time was running short and Jack had done nothing to gain ground with Briar. "Seeing what you've already done for us, I hate to ask for anything else, but could I possibly get one more favor?" Jack could feel Mac's sharp gaze on him but ignored it. Nothing, not the ghost-chase for a sword and journal ,nor him going to prison was worth risking family. "Would your daddy happen to be in town?"


	9. Chapter 9

Those We Gather Close

By: Ridley

A/N: As with Love Wins, there has been a huge gap between the last post of this poor story. You may want to go back and read the last couple of chapters. For those new to this one, you might want to read The Brotherhood Code, as it brings the Supernatural verse into MacGyver-as crazy as that sounds-when Dean and Sam are instrumental in rescuing Mac when they figure out his Morse Code trick when he is taken to Mexico by El Noche. I've written for a long time in SPN fandom. I have an AU known as The Brotherhood. I began it long before the 'Men of Letters' in cannon, but it is similar in some ways. But I have dragons. So there. Lol. Nothing should be too hard to follow. All characters except Mackland Ames technically belong to other people-even Caleb, who started on SPN, but I changed and tweaked greatly over the years. For those wondering about the next chapter of Love Wins, I plan on alternating between this story and Love Wins until they are both finished. Each should have around two to three more chapters.

RcJ

Jack watched wearily from his perch on the corner of Joshua Sawyer's desk as The Brotherhood's personal physician, Mackland Ames, ran his fingers over Mac's throat, pressing and palpitating the worst of the reddened skin from the Russian's choke hold. He tried to ignore the slight wince his partner was obviously trying to hide, by perusing the various pictures on Sawyer's walls. They were photos of jagged cliffs and haunting hillsides, perhaps documenting the PR guru's extensive air miles. Not really Jack's taste, but it was a distraction. He couldn't bring himself to feel bad about the Russian being dead, although he tried to block the manner in which he died from his mind. Jack had lived enough years and traveled to too many remote places around the world himself not to acknowledge that there were things a person couldn't explain with science and reason, even if Mac insisted the contrary.

But what happened in the parking garage…it was beyond the unusual. One minute the big man was breathing, the next he wasn't. Caleb Reaves seemed to be the person responsible for that change, although he had been at least ten feet away from him. Despite Jack being way more open minded than his partner when it came to the unusual, the current events made his head hurt in a way that had little to do with his recent concussion. What the hell had they gotten into? And was he placing his family in even more danger by going along with it?

"My son tells me you went to MIT." Ames's deep voice brought Jack from his spiraling thoughts in time to see Mac grimace once more, whether from physical pain or a touchy subject, Jack wasn't sure. The kid had reluctantly allowed himself to be checked over after nearly face planting on their way back into the building. He had agreed to rest on the leather couch in Sawyer's office where Drew offered to nursemaid him while Caleb reached out to his father who was luckily in Louisville for a visit with Sawyer's wife, who was apparently expecting a baby very soon.

"A long time ago," Mac responded hoarsely. He glanced up at the physician who had pulled his stepson's leather chair from behind his desk and was using it much like the rolling stool Dr. Carl had back in the medical offices at Phoenix. "I read you went to Cornell and Johns Hopkins."

"Even longer ago." The doctor chuckled, rolling his chair over a few feet to pull a stethoscope from an old worn medical bag he'd placed on a table near the end of the couch. "But, yes," he conceded rolling back to his patient. "I spent time at both those fine institutions and at one time entertained high aspirations for remaining at Johns Hopkins."

"That was just a footnote in your very impressive resume, Dr. Ames," Mac continued and Jack recognized the subtle fishing expedition his partner was on. It was likely a combination of redirecting the attention from himself but also feeling out this new player on the board. Mac had been most baffled by the revelation that a man of science had apparently been duped into drinking The Brotherhood's crazy Kool-Aid. Criminals and apparent con-artists like the Winchesters were not a mystery, nor was the inclusion of a well-known architect, but the doctor didn't fit into Mac's theory. If the hint of amusement on the good doctor's face was any indication, he was not fooled by the dangling hook.

"Please call me Mac," He insisted, but then lifted a thick eyebrow, "Or perhaps Mackland would be better seeing as how it might be odd considering we seem to prefer the same shortened versions of our names."

"Or you could just call _him_ by his actual first name, Doc, which is Angus," Jack interjected with a grin that made the cut on his lip pull painfully. The suggestion earned a heated glared from his partner, which he merely returned with a wink. He was glad to have the boy plucky again.

"I'd rather you didn't." Mac returned his gaze to the doctor, the shiner on face slowly showing an impressive purple. "No offense, but only a few people call me Angus."

"Those with a special pass. I understand completely. I'll call you Mac," Ames assured, focusing back on the task at hand. "You call me Mackland."

Jack snorted, noting that 'Mackland' seemed to have a soft spot. He wasn't exactly what Jack had been expecting after the intel they'd gotten. Mac hadn't been exaggerating the 'impressive' resume part, so Jack had been thrown by the running attire and Boston Red Sox baseball cap when the good doctor strode into Sawyer's office. Mackland Ames looked a bit like a very fit, fifty-something version of Magnum P.I.-the Eighties version, not the new guy. He was only lacking the Hawaiian shirt.

The way he'd refereed the throw down between Caleb and Joshua concerning the 'incident' in the parking garage-as they were now calling it- was impressive and earned Jack's instant respect. All the men, including Dean, had yielded to his suggestion that they stop bickering about what had already happened and focus on how to proceed forward in a manner that didn't involve burying any government agents in the back forty of their Kentucky farm or storming a witches' coven and starting a supernatural war. Jack's eyes briefly drifted to a clock on the wall at the thoughts of war and dead bodies, dread blossoming inside his stomach once more. They were running out of time. And so far they had more questions than answers. He could very well be as good as six feet under if their luck didn't soon turn. Where would Mac be then?

"Do you really believe you're psychic?"

Mac's question instantly brought Jack back to the present moment, his mouth opening a bit at the kid's forthrightness. Luckily the doctor didn't seem offended by the obvious disbelief in his patient's strained tone, and instead nodded as if the inquiry was a valid one.

"Initially, I concluded I was suffering from some sort of delusion, possibly a psychotic state brought on by the trauma to the frontal cortex that I received in my car accident." Mackland explained this as if he were possibly consulting with another physician on a case instead of talking about what Jack imagined was a very personal matter, not to mention a painful memory. They had read the report on the drunk driver who'd nearly destroyed a young doctor's life. "Does this hurt?" Ames had removed his stethoscope from Mac's chest and had placed his hands on the kid's left side.

"A little." Mac squirmed slightly, his blue gaze flicking momentarily to Jack before going once more to the doctor. "Maybe a three on the pain scale."

"I take it that I should add at least three more to that?" Mackland cast a glance to Jack, brow raised. "It's a rule of thumb with my boys."

"Definitely." Jack folded his arms over his chest, biting back on a groan when his ribs made themselves known as well. He nodded to the doctor who'd just earned more points in his book. "Maybe four in my kid's case."

"Nothing's broken," Mac insisted, clearing his voice.

"Did I miss the part where you went to medical school, young man?" Ames's brow furrowed, mustache twitching. "Because I was certain Samuel said your major was physics."

Mac shrugged, wincing once again. "I might not be a doctor, but even I think your theory about the psychotic delusions makes more sense than you being psychic."

"Mac," Jack started only to have Dr. Ames shake his head. Sometimes his partner's stubborn streak for logic verged on irritating. He loved the kid like crazy, so he could shake it off as an endearing trait, but Ames didn't know them, let alone owe them the benefit of the doubt.

"I concurred the same thing." Ames, seemingly nonplussed by Mac's obvious diversion continued his examination, motioning for Mac to lift his shirt so he could see the extent of the damaged ribs for himself. Jack clenched his jaw when he caught sight of the bold bruises already mottling his partner's side. "But I'm not as quick to agree with your diagnosis of your own condition." He frowned as his fingers trailed the outline of the ribs under the most colorful patch of skin and Mac jerked reflexively, biting back a groan. "A couple of these could be cracked, son."

"Did you request a second opinion about your diagnosis?" Mac's breathy reply had Jack's chest tightening, just as the kid's rabbiting off the subject had him sighing in frustration. He rubbed a finger over his temple, hoping to erase some of the throbbing in his skull.

Ames gave Jack an understanding glance before letting Mac drop his shirt tail back into place. He met the younger man's blue eyes. "Surely you can understand my hesitancy in broaching the subject of my possible insanity with my constituents. At the time, most of them had already written me off as a lost cause as I was in a rehab center in Washington D.C. in the process of relearning the most rudimentary of skills such as, grooming and feeding myself. At that point even talking and especially walking again seemed an unlikely miracle."

"I'm sorry," Mac's voice dropped a notch and the look on his face showed that swallowing was painful. Jack recognized the more familiar, empathetic tone, the one that reflected his best friend's great capacity for caring about more than just scientific principles. "That must have been awful for someone like you."

"Awful for anyone, indeed, but you're right," Ames patted Mac's knee as if he'd picked up on the kid's contrition and wanted him to know that no offense had been taken, "For someone who considered himself invincible and practically godlike when it came to the field of medicine I was more than frustrated with my poor condition, even more so with my odds of complete recovery."

The doctor sat back in the chair, arms folding over his chest, an unreadable look in his dark eyes for a moment. "It was in fact my very frustration with my progress that brought upon my first psychic episode so it was natural that I wanted to blame the strangeness of the situation on a temporary state of insanity. In fact, at the time, I would have happily had myself committed, if not for all the evidence to the contrary."

"What evidence?" Jack asked, unable to help himself from being drawn into the story. He gripped the sides of the desk and leaned forward, his ribs protesting the movement. He swallowed a quick wave of nausea, and ignored the concerned look Mac shot him.

"My destroyed hospital room for one." Ames's mouth twitched, amused at their reaction. "Including the twisted remains of my wheelchair. It had somehow become a good imitation of a metal pretzel. No one could explain how my room, and my room alone looked as if it had experienced its own private visit from a tornado, including cracked glass in the windows and the mirror in the bathroom. It was a good thing my father had donated money for that very wing and promised to make another hefty contribution to keep matters under wraps."

"Anger and frustration can definitely cause an adrenaline surge," Mac suggested, sharing a quick look with Jack. "In Afghanistan, we've seen soldiers do the impossible when under great duress."

"Typically I would tend to agree with you if not for the fact that at the time I couldn't get out of my hospital bed. Nothing below my waist was in working order. An adrenaline rush doesn't heal spinal cord trauma."

"So you naturally concluded you did it with your mind?" Skepticism was thick in Mac's hoarse voice.

"I was leaning towards a freak earthquake but considering no other rooms were affected…"

"That's…" Mac started, but hesitated when Jack cleared his throat not wanting to piss off the person helping his partner.

"Completely whacko, I know," Mackland finished what the kid had so obviously been thinking. Ames grinned then, removing the stethoscope from around his neck. He turned to look at his medical bag on the table more than four feet away. Instead of rolling over to reach it as he had done before, he merely extended his hand and the bag came to him as if it had been tethered by an invisible chord and Ames had given it a good yank. He curled a hand around the bag and winked at Mac. "Absolutely insane."

Jack opened his mouth to say something but a sudden presence at his side, startled him. He turned to find Ames's son standing close to him. He blew out a huff of air, wondering if The Knight could not only kill a man with his mind but appear out of thin air as well.

"Everything okay?" Caleb asked.

Jack turned to glance at the doctor and Mac. Mac was studying Ames with a look of astonishment that was usually reserved for rare meteorological occurrences in the night sky and Hail Mary wins by his favorite underdog hockey team. Jack would have laughed if not assured his face held a similar dumbfounded look.

"Your dad…"

"Is the best," Caleb assured, propping his hands on his hips. He nodded his chin to the far corner of the massive office where a little alcove opened to a large window framed with twin bookshelves. Two leather chairs sat in front of each stuffed shelf, a table between them holding more books and some magazines. "Could we talk a second?"

Jack hesitated, his gaze once more going to Mac, who was attempting to listen to the doctor's instructions to look at the pen light Ames was now holding and moving from side to side in front of the kid, totally back to doctor mode as if he had not just not perfectly demonstrated an act of telekinesis like he had attended Charles Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters instead of Johns Hopkins. It wasn't as if Reaves, who seemed to have a bug up his butt about something, was asking Jack to leave the room. Still, his protective instincts made it difficult to step away.

"I'm good, Jack," Mac didn't even glance at him, obviously having a super power of his own when it came to knowing his partner's hypervigilance had kicked into overdrive.

Jack nodded to Caleb and followed the younger man over to the far end of the room. Caleb moved to a cabinet under the window seat and opened it to reveal a mini fridge. He took out two beers, offering one to Jack after Jack had taken a seat. He tried to ignore it but his body was actually thrilled about sitting down on something softer than the desk.

"I didn't take your brother for the beer type?" Jack stared at the bottle. It was labelled a Kentucky Brunch Brand Stout. He'd never heard of it, but he wasn't about to be picky at this point, quite possibly willing to take a ladle of something Caleb might draw from a smoking cauldron.

Reaves took the seat across from him, lifting the beer. "I picked this up at a brewery in Iowa where it's only released once a year and only three hundred bottles at a time. It cost me a prime chunk of change and was a bribe for something I needed from my 'stepbrother'. With all the shit we get into I usually keep him supplied in the fancy beer he favors."

Jack twisted the lid off and tilted the bottle in a toast. "To family having our back."

Caleb smirked, his amber gaze still on Jack. "To family."

Jack took a long drink, hoping the alcohol would help some with the throbbing behind his temple and ribs as well. He looked at the bottle again. "Not half bad."

"After the morning you had, I figure anything short of something tasting of warm horse piss might do the trick."

"You're not wrong." Jack smiled though it didn't quiet reach his eyes, his gaze traveled to Ames and Mac. It appeared the good doctor had instructed his patient to lie on the sofa and Jack hoped that didn't mean Ames was worried about the couple of kidney punches the kid had taken. He felt his stomach twist at his partner's weary expression. This whole situation was fucked up. Briar, Craddock-fucking assholes. How could a dead person still screw with them?"

"Dead is relative in The Brotherhood," Caleb tossed out casually. "In fact, those that have crossed over are always more of a pain in the ass than those still in the land of the living. At least in my experience."

Jack jerked his gaze up to meet the younger man's. Reaves shrugged, looking slightly sheepish. "I'm sorry. You were broadcasting very loudly."

"I'm not sure what that means." Jack pinched the bridge of his nose.

"It means you're not exactly a person who keeps his thoughts or his feelings to himself." Caleb glanced over his shoulder. "Your partner on the other hand…he'd take effort to read." When Jack narrowed his gaze in warning, Caleb arched a brow. "Which is _not_ something I would do unless I considered him a threat to one of my own."

"As you can see, at the moment he's not threat." Jack took another drink of his beer, frustration bleeding to the surface. "Thanks to Briar's stooges."

"If it makes you feel any better, for a neurosurgeon my dad has had his share of experience in patching up men on the back end of a fight." Caleb gestured to himself with his beer, something in his gaze softening. "I personally have received enough stitches to probably circle this room a few times over in medical grade thread. He'll take care of him."

"It's not that I don't trust your old man's knowledge, but…" Jack started to absently peel at the label of his bottle.

"You feel responsible for the kid."

"You still reading my mind, Reaves?" His gaze flickered back to Caleb, surprise and irritation clouding his eyes.

The Knight laughed. "No need, dude. I recognize the look on your face. The one that would lead a person to believe that kid over there was somehow single-handedly responsible for liberating the great state of Texas and may have also invented tacos, _and_ created the National Football League."

Jack ducked his head, hoping to hell that he wasn't so easy to read by the average Joe. "He's sort of important to me."

"It's the same look that says you take every one of those bruises on him as a personal failure on your part," Reaves added. "That his spilled blood is your Kryptonite."

"It's my job to watch out for him." Jack looked up. It was a simple statement but it held so much more. Caleb had pegged how he felt about Mac perfectly and he understood in that moment that the man wasn't reading him so much as possibly recanting his own personal experience with the Winchesters. Caleb Reaves understood the duty of being a brother. Once again thoughts of the charges Jack would soon face if they didn't find the journal loomed large. It had his stomach in knots. Who would take care of Mac if Jack was no longer in the picture?

"I get that," Caleb gave a sharp nod. "I sometimes hear 'Watch out for Dean, Caleb', 'Keep Sam safe, Junior' in my fucking sleep."

"You've been their Overwatch a long time then?" Jack arched a brow, his breath hitching when his ribs sent a stabbing pain though his side.

"I always considered it a glorified babysitting job, but if Overwatch means I never took my eyes off them, and blamed myself for any time they so much as stumped their toe, then yeah. "Caleb placed the bottle on the table, his fingers absently twisting the silver ring on his hand.

"Overwatch is a military term, but it basically comes down to one hell of a stressful babysitting gig." Jack ran a hand over his hair, wincing when his fingers brushed a rather tender spot. "One that isn't made any easier by the fact that anytime Mac is hurt I tend to see him as the wet behind the ears nineteen-year-old kid I met in the desert instead of the grown ass, capable agent that he so obviously is." He took another swig of the beer, enjoying the odd mix of maple and what tasted a bit like hazelnut.

"You should try seeing a five-year-old in Chip-N-Dale pajamas you used to tuck into bed at night and his chubby-cheeked drooling baby brother." Caleb gave his head a shake as if he'd somehow inadvertently conjured the images of Dean and Sam even now. "In some ways my job was easier when they were little kids. At least they somewhat listened to what I said."

Jack snorted, his gaze moving over the younger man. Not for the first time in their short acquaintance he recognized something familiar in Reaves, a sense he'd intuited from other soldiers. "Unless you boys at The Brotherhood have also uncovered the Fountain of Youth, I'm guessing you had to be a kid yourself, Reaves."

The Knight shrugged, a hint of a smile lifting one corner of his mouth this time. "So I might have been thirteen going on thirty, but trust me when I say I was far from a kid. I didn't exactly have much of a childhood."

"Bad shit can age a body." Jack recalled Reaves police file. He'd lost his parents in a murder/suicide when he was five, been shuffled in the foster system for a few years before ending up being accused of murder and put in some sort of mental institution all before being adopted by Ames.

"Mackland and James Murphy rescued me in more ways than one." Caleb leaned forward, clasping his hands together. His eyes narrowed as he considered Jack. Jack realized he'd have to be more guarded with his thoughts when he was around the man. "The Brotherhood saved my life. It's sacred to me. Like your Army, your Delta team. Your family. Protecting Dean and Sam Winchester has been my job for more than twenty years. They are my brothers in every sense of the word. I like you, Dalton. The kid, too. But…"

"But something's got you spooked, and I'm guessing you don't spook all that easily." Jack frowned, the cut above his eye pulling with the movement. "What happened?"

"I just got an interesting phone call from one Matilda Weber, who informed me in no uncertain terms that she had footage of what went down in that parking garage this morning. She said my talents outside the art circle were obviously a well-kept secret."

"Damn." Jack ran a hand over his mouth, cursing his director's meddling. Obviously, Matty was trying to stack the deck, to look out for their interests, but her tactics were so similar to what Briar was using that Jack's stomach flipped, and he felt nauseated at the game. "I can explain that, man. It's on me, though I had no ulterior motive. I swear I had Riley, our computer guru, check for the footage from any security cameras that might have been in use in the area only so she could erase it so Briar or any of his associates couldn't get their hands on it, not to mention any local law enforcement."

"I appreciate keeping a lid on things. Believe me." Caleb's face darkened, gold eyes flashing. "What I _don't_ appreciate is being threatened. Or to feel as if our generous hospitality thus far is being used against us."

"What exactly did Matty say?" Jack leaned forward with a suppressed sigh, imagining all too well what his director had tossed out.

"She didn't give specifics, but I got the impression that if we didn't cooperate completely with you and your boy then my performance out there, which she made sure to inform me included the murder of a federal prisoner, just might find its way into the hands of certain interested parties." Caleb twisted the silver ring on his finger again, alerting Jack that it was an old familiar habit, his eyes taking on an intensity that almost made them look as if they were glowing. "You can imagine I don't want that information getting out. Not because I might just end up in some science lab in Area 51, but because I can't exactly protect the Guardian if I'm constantly watching my back."

"I've seen the X-men movies, dude. I get your need to stay in the Clark Kent zone as the mild-mannered architect with a budding art career."

Caleb frowned, grabbing for his beer once more. "Despite mixing movie franchises, and _completely_ ignoring the fact that I'm way more the millionaire Bruce Wayne type than any geeky newspaper guy, I think you realize the government is fine with a guy like my dad touching a few objects and helping them crack a kidnapping case, especially if a little kid is safely returned to his family. They aren't so understanding of someone who can go Darth Vader on a guy's ass."

"Now who's mixing movie franchises?" Jack tried for grin he did not really feel. Caleb did not return the gesture.

"You're the one who first brought up The Force in the garage." Caleb's frown deepened, studying the beer bottle for a moment. "But honestly you weren't far off. I'm not exactly Dark Side, but I'm definitely more Anakin Skywalker than anyone outside The Brotherhood is going to be comfortable with. Hell, some who wear the ring aren't comfortable with it. Trust me."

"I'll trust you, if you trust me." Jack flicked his gaze to where Mac was now sitting up, Ames having just stood. He lowered his voice, knowing it was asking a lot. Reaves didn't owe him shit. Didn't really know him from Adam. Jack was counting on their similar roles to soften the request.

"I give you my word that if you help us, hell, even if you _don't_ help us, no one is going to get that footage. You saved Mac's life out there. I sure as hell won't forget it, let alone let your willingness to put yourself at risk for a kid you barely knew be the act that takes you out of the game." Jack motioned a finger between the two of them. "See, I think you and me are cut from the same cloth, Reaves. I might not be able to melt a guy's brain, but I can put a bullet in his medulla from 600 yards away without batting an eye. Some people consider me Dark Side. Even some of my own people. It's what's landed me in this little situation. Our Armies may be different, but that doesn't mean we can't be allies on the same battlefield."

After a long moment, Caleb grinned. "My mentor, John, he used to say I'd have made a shitty soldier. He said my head was far too hard and my mouth way too big."

Jack snorted "Damn, hoss, that doesn't mean you wouldn't have made one hell of a Delta." Jack took another long swallow of his beer. "Teams is the perfect place for a 'fuck you' attitude and a never say die spirit."

"Then I might have preferred being an Army Ranger or a SEAL to college." .

"Caleb, please tell me you're not informing Agent Dalton how I threatened to cut you out of my will if you dared to choose the Army recruiter over the one from Auburn?" Mackland Ames had made his way across the room, followed by a very smug-looking Mac.

"Would I badmouth the man who forced me to become the respectable man I am today?" Caleb looked from Mac to Jack, an innocent impression on his face. "It's no secret I've made New York City's top ten most eligible bachelor's list like five years running. Forbes magazine did a spread on me and my company Tri-Corp before I was twenty-five." Caleb jerked a thumb to the doctor. "You're looking at the man I owe that success to."

Despite the teasing tone, Jack didn't miss the look of complete sincerity Reaves shot his old man. It inspired a phantom pang in his chest, not just for what he'd lost when his own father had died, but what Mac had never had the chance to know thanks to James MacGyver's selfishness.

"I take no credit, however, for his enormous ego. _That_ I blame on the likes of my former Triad, James Murphy and John Winchester, who constantly encouraged Caleb's confidence in all manner of things. Including skills which had nothing to do with colleges and lucrative career fields, I'm afraid."

"But I turned out good." Caleb stood, nodding to his father. "Right?"

"You did," Ames reached out and squeezed his son's shoulder, his adoration also not hidden. This time Jack did not miss the way his partner was watching the pair, the way a starving person might eye a big honking steak.

"Speaking of kids," Jack quickly stood, placing his beer on the table near Caleb's discarded one. "How's Mac?"

"I'm fine." Mac answered before Ames could, a look of annoyance quickly replacing the one of longing that had colored his face only seconds before. He reached up and touched the cut on his lip as if he'd forgotten it was there until the quick reply had awakened some pain. Mac dropped his hand to his side as soon as he seem to recognize Jack had zeroed in on it. "I'm also standing right here."

The doctor looked at Jack. "Without an X-ray, I can't say with certainty that he didn't sustain fractures to his ribs, but I am fairly certain you can guess his answer to my suggestion he make a trip to the hospital."

"No need for mind reading on that one, Doc." Jack cut his eyes to Reaves before swinging his gaze back to Ames. "How about his throat and kidney?"

"He's going to have a sore throat for a while, but thankfully there was no damage to the trachea, and no signs of internal bleeding."

"Just like I told you before you had Caleb drag his dad here, Jack." Mac interjected, making a point of standing up straighter though Jack caught the flash of pain before the kid could cover. He knew he was a hypocrite but he wanted nothing more than to have the luxury to insist the kid go have the tests the doctor wanted. Unfortunately, there was no time for either of them to rest, let alone be thoroughly checked over.

"I didn't mind coming," Ames assured them, running a finger over his mustache. "In fact, Joshua had already called me before the incident in the parking garage took place and asked that I come meet the nice secret agents that The Triad had brought into his office for a visit. The very same agents who purportedly supplied Dean with a grenade launcher."

"Well, of course he did," Caleb muttered, rolling his eyes. "Tattle tale couldn't wait to call you."

"Needless to say after he explained the possible tie in with Patton's journal my interest as the former Scholar was piqued. I've never been one to walk away from a mystery and I have an interest in Brotherhood history." The doctor raised a brow at Jack. "Besides, I don't think my services have been completely exhausted yet as Mac explained that you suffered similar injuries to his just a couple of days ago while falsely incarcerated and haven't been seen by a medical professional."

"Did he now?" Jack folded his arms over his chest, understanding his best friend's smug look from before. He frowned at Mackland. "As much as I appreciate the offer to have a once over by a physician of your standing, Doc, I'm going to pass. After all, if I haven't keeled over before now, I'm probably in the clear. Right?" They were running out of time. He could practically feel Briar breathing down his neck. And even if he didn't regret ending Craddock, Jack wasn't keen on facing murder charges or being on the run forever.

"I also might have messed with his head not knowing he had a recent concussion," Reaves spoke up much to Jack's chagrin. The Knight flashed a sheepish look when Jack narrowed his gaze at him, but the agent had a feeling any sign of contrition was elicited by the exasperated sigh from The Knight's father, the breathless 'Caleb' that he said under his breath.

"Then I would truly be remiss in my duties if I didn't insist in having a look, Agent Dalton. My son can be over zealous when it comes to acting as The Knight."

"It's Jack." Jack grunted, shaking his head as Mac's mouth twitched. "Seeing as we're about to get up close and personal, we should at least be on a first name basis."

"Then how about you join me on the couch then, Jack?" Ames waved an arm towards the sofa and for a moment Jack wondered if the sofa might come floating across the room towards them or even better that Ames might just levitate him right over to his make-shift examination area, but when neither happened he merely nodded, accepting his fate.

"Fine."

"The kid and I will go see if Dean and Sam are clear on all the details about the coven." Caleb gestured to the door, waving Mac ahead of him, grinning. "My stepmother probably has a tea that will be good for your throat. Trust me when I say she has a much better bedside manner than my father and no torturous penlight."

"I heard that," Ames called after his son as the two men left the office, Mac giving Jack one more glance over his shoulder as if he hadn't planned on leaving even if he did set the whole examination into motion.

"You brought your wife?" Jack asked the doctor once they were alone, frowning.

"Of course." Mackland tilted his head. "Who better to explain the etiquette needed to address a high priestess of a coven than a daughter of a high priestess?"

"Your wife is a witch?" Jack's brows shot up, the painful pull of the cut above of his eye fading in his surprise.

"She prefers crafter actually." Mackland's mouth twitched in amusement. "Witch has such a negative connotation."

"Then I suppose I shouldn't make any jokes about Hermione Granger or Sabrina?"

Ames patted him on the shoulder. "Only if you wish to be turned into a toad, son."

"Right," Jack nodded.

The doctor gave a wink, but after the things he had already experienced that morning Jack wasn't at all convinced the good doctor was joking.

RcJ

Mac wasn't sure what to expect as he followed Reaves out of Joshua's office across the lavish lobby. He felt slightly anxious for leaving Jack alone with the doctor, who if his trick with the medical bag was any indication was apparently a great illusionist as well. He shook free of the fear, feeling childish for being clingy and irrational. It wasn't as if Mackland Ames was going to make Jack disappear.

No. That was all Mike Briar.

The thought of losing Jack was harder to accept than any of the craziness they'd experienced since encountering The Brotherhood, but Mac understood all too well, that Jack going to jail was unfortunately plausible.

Unlike Ames's harmless sleight of hand, the former CIA operator's scam was malicious and deadly. Mac needed to do what was necessary to expose the deception as quickly as possible, even if his headache was made worse by the ever-thickening web of weirdness weaved by the Brotherhood. Their mission had begun to feel more like a deranged role playing game or bizarre scavenger hunt instead of an effort to rescue Jack from Briar's clutches. If he needed to talk with Ames's wife, and this Dresden person who called herself a witch, then Mac would do so. He would even do his best to be polite about it.

"You okay?" Caleb asked, bringing Mac from his thoughts as he stopped outside another door.

"Of course." Mac blinked, looking up at Reaves.

"Right." Caleb shrugged, the look on his face one of doubt. "But you did just miss Drew wearing only his birthday suit and a smile. Just saying…"

Mac swung his head around, checking behind them. He fully expected to see Joshua Sawyer's very friendly assistant completely naked and draped over the top of his black glossy desk but found the man actually still clothed and engrossed in a magazine. As if sensing Mac's gaze, he lifted his eyes and gave a little come hither wave, going so far as to bat his lashes.

Mac turned to face Caleb with a frown, feeling his face warm. He lowered his voice. "Not funny."

"You didn't see the look on your face, kid. It was funny." Caleb lifted a brow. "You're sort of gullible for a spy."

Mac rolled his eyes, seeming to further amuse the older man. Caleb reminded him of Jack's Delta team members, specifically the ones like Boxer and Cooper, who although dangerous men in their own right, lived to good-naturedly torment their young EOD, like the baby brother they eventually dubbed him. He stood taller and tried to look imposing despite knowing from past experience that it probably came off like a scruffy puppy standing up to a full grown wolf and had his cracked ribs protesting the bravado. "Maybe it's just that I wouldn't put anything past your people at this point. No offense, but I feel like I've stepped into a three ring circus."

Reaves gave a laugh, apparently not offended in the least or intimidated for that matter. "Oh, kid you haven't seen nothing yet." Caleb opened the door, flashing Mac his canines. "Wait until you meet our Uncle Bobby."

Mac wanted to ask if there was a Festus and Cousin It lurking somewhere as well, but restrained himself as they entered the conference room where, Dean and Bozer sat eating, their plates holding what appeared to be some sort of pastries. Bozer had apparently been leading the conversation if his animated hand motions were anything to go by.

"Mac!" Bozer turned when the door clicked shut behind them. "Are you okay? What did the doctor say?"

"I'm fine, Boze." Mac winced at his voice which came out scratchy and hoarse. An indicator that perhaps he was nowhere near fine. He dropped the arm he'd unconsciously wrapped around his throbbing side and cleared his throat. "Really."

"Where's Sammy?" Caleb asked, changing the subject, for which Mac was grateful and further convinced of the man's similarity to Boxer, who although had been known to tease Mac mercilessly, also stepped in anytime he thought 'baby brother' needed a save.

"The Scholar is being his geeky self." Dean picked up a piece of the pastry from his plate and shoved it in his mouth. "Checking with his minions to see if they found anymore intel on Patton's sword." He managed while chewing. "He stepped out for some privacy."

"If those are Esme's carrot caramel muffins, someone better have saved me one." Reaves moved across the generous room to slide into the chair by Dean, reaching towards The Guardian's plate only to have the younger man slide it to the other side with a warning scowl.

"Get your own, Damien." Dean gestured to the covered dish in the center of the conference table.

Mac moved towards the others, placing his hands on the back of one of the plush, leather chairs by Bozer. He was stopped from sitting when an older woman appeared in another doorway on the opposite side of the room.

"You know I wouldn't forget you, Caleb," she declared, entering from the area that Mac imagined might serve as a kitchen or break room. His suspicions were confirmed when Sawyer exited behind her baring a tray of steaming mugs, and several bottles of water.

"Only because she knows how you would love a reason to play the forsaken stepchild card, bemoaning the slight of being denied a snack as if it were on par with Cinderella's fate of being kept from the ball." Sawyer spoke up as he sat the tray on the table, with a put upon huff. Mac had a suspicion the man was not typically in the habit of serving his business associates but was trying to maintain his good manners.

"Joshua." The woman spoke again, this time the musical lilt of her voice hardening just a fraction as she arched a defined brow at Sawyer.

"Sorry, Mother." Joshua shot Caleb a tight smile. "But I'm only saying what we all know to be true."

"One thing that definitely rings true is you as the ugly stepsister in that story, Josh," Dean spoke up around another mouthful of muffin. He swallowed, helping himself to one of the coffee's. "I'm talking Grimm fairytale variety ugly, not just Disney dorky."

"Boys." The woman clasped her hands together, giving Mac an apologetic glance. "I hope you will remember yourselves in front of company."

"Mother," Joshua at least seemed to take the woman's word to heart, as he gently took her elbow and guided her around the table.

Mac didn't miss the twin eye rolls from Dean and Caleb as Dean mouthed something to Bozer that might have been 'Mama's Boy'. Bozer gave an unsure laugh, sending a look Mac's way. Mac shook his head, unwilling to join in this odd family dynamic with people he still considered strangers, dangerous strangers at that.

"This is Agent MacGyver." Joshua extended his hand towards Mac. "Agent MacGyver, this is my mother, Esme Madrigal."

"Ames." Esme added the additional last name as she grasped Mac's hand in both hers, giving him a warm smile. She was tall. In her heels, nearly Mac's height. Her wavy dark hair was loose around her shoulders drawing Mac's eyes to the colorful scarf draped around her neck. The intricate pattern of birds and flowers gave an ethereal touch to her crisp white, top and if he'd tried to picture a 'modern day' witch, he would imagine she'd suit the image his mind might conjure. She didn't seem old enough to have a son Sawyer's age as the man had to be in his late thirties, but something about their fine bone structure linked them as family, as did the color of their eyes. Her hazel ones held not only endearment but a hint of mischief as she flashed them to her son once more before returning her gaze to Mac. "My son tends to simply forget that I've remarried, but please call me, Esme."

"Oh, I didn't forget," Joshua said, returning his mother's glance. The look was both amused and affectionate. Mac felt his heart pick up, a sudden memory of his own mother smiling at him, of her reaching out to push a sweep of his hair from his face catching him by surprise. The surge of emotion was unwelcome in the situation that was already far beyond Mac's comfort zone, and he instinctively looked to the table, searching out Bozer, like a familiar touchstone.

His roommate frowned seeming to pick up on Mac's discomfort, but obviously not exactly understanding the impetus for it.

"James Blond likes to be called 'Mac'," Dean called out, unknowingly offering Mac a lifeline or perhaps also picking up on Mac's sudden panic and understanding it in a way Bozer couldn't. Mac remembered Dean Winchester's mother had also died when he was just a kid, and had, like Mac, more than likely grown up without much of a female presence in his life.

"Actually, you can call me Angus." Mac cleared his throat once more, unsure why he offered his first name, but something about the woman was disarming and he found that his face felt a little warm as she continued to gaze at him in a fashion that was reminiscent of Nana Beth, although Esme was younger and obviously more Manhattan socialite than Texas Sunday school teacher.

"Angus is a wonderful name," Esme said, delighted. "Gaelic if I'm not mistaken. It means superior strength." She let Mac's hand go. "I for one love old names and am hoping Joshua will consider one when his own son arrives soon."

"Hopefully not one as bad as Perseus, which is what Josh's old man came up with for him," Dean added, his glee at revealing the name also obvious.

"After the son of Zeus," Mac said, trying not to wince. Maybe Angus wasn't so bad.

"Exactly. Perseus also beheaded Medusa. A true warrior and hero." Esme's smile widened, although her son seemed to shrink under her obvious attempt to make his misfortunate name seem extremely desirable. She gave Mac a knowing look. "I'm afraid Joshua's father had a bit of a god complex."

"My mom liked ACDC," Mac explained, understanding Joshua's chagrin all too well. "I'm named after their guitar player, Angus Young." It was one of his theories. Mac's mother was long gone before he was old enough to realize 'Angus' wasn't exactly typical and ask her what on earth had possessed her to choose it for her one and only son. Harry had never confirmed any of Mac's inquiries about his name, though he'd not outright denied the ACDC postulation after Mac had come across numerous ACDC albums and old concert t-shirts in his mother's things.

"Dude, that is so awesome," Dean was obviously impressed. "My mom loved classic rock, too. I may have to drop the James Blond and start calling you Gus."

Mac grimaced, unsure of which nickname would be worse. "Or you could just call me Mac, like everyone else." He shot Bozer a dark look when it looked as if his roommate wanted to add his own two cents. Wisely, he stuffed more muffin in his mouth instead.

"You'll have to ignore them as the boys tend to have a penchant for handing out monikers of their choosing," Esme explained. "I think it must be a 'guy' thing," she added thoughtfully, "Because we women don't typically find the need to rename one other."

"It's okay." Mac smiled, resigned to his fate. He could feel the gazes of the other men upon him and wondered if this was some sort of test. "Trust me when I say I'm used to it. My partner has about ten frequent ones he tosses out. Carl's Junior being the worst. Hoss being the least annoying."

"Then I will call you Angus." Esme gestured to Mac's neck, concern narrowing her gaze. "I take it my husband declared you fit for battle."

"He gave me his cautious go ahead."

"Meaning Dad wanted him to do a hospital run, but the kid refused."

"Mac hates doctors." Bozer piped up, unhelpfully, seemingly unable to restrain himself this time. "Major baby about it. Jack has had to 'cave man' him there a few times."

"I'm in fact a federal agent and quite capable of making my own decisions on treatment. Despite my partner's tendency to act like a Neanderthal at times, I have a good gauge of my own welfare." Mac countered, giving Esme an apologetic look as he suddenly found himself on the wrong side of the woman's raised brow. It was not completely unlike the ones Matty sometimes favored him with, although somehow much more maternal, not nearly as 'I'm going to throat punch you'.

"Perhaps I could at least offer you some of my special tea." Esme touched Joshua's arm before Mac could answer one way or the other and he realized quickly it wasn't a question. "Joshua, you know the correct herbs. Bring my bag with you when you return as well. I think some arnica would help with Angus's eye."

"Of course, Mother," Although Joshua's tone was agreeable, the look of irritation he leveled on Mac revealed that his patience was likely wearing thin and that he in no way needed one more 'boy' for his mother to dote on. It was quite clear he would not be generous enough to share as Jack had been with his grandmother.

"Are you a doctor, too?" Mac asked Esme as he pulled out one of the chairs for her to take a seat at the table.

"I consider myself somewhat of a homeopath." Esme took the seat and gestured for Mac to take the one beside her. "I have a small shop in Manhattan where I sell teas and other natural remedies. And while my work isn't completely medicinal in nature, I feel my methods add to the treatment of the entire person."

"Meaning she also hocks high priced clothes and jewelry at her shop," Caleb added with a wink at his stepmother.

"Shopping does do wonders for the soul." Esme touched her delicate scarf, her impressive diamond ring catching the light. "And my prices are very affordable considering the artisans I represent."

"Does your husband embrace your holistic approach?"

"He used to think it was one step above hoodoo," Dean answered, but quickly donned a very similar sorry countenance to the one Mac had so recently pulled when Esme gave a small clearing of her throat. "I mean that was way before he came to realize the value of Esme's skills, and before he got the hots for her," Dean added.

Much to Mac's surprise, Esme's mouth curled into a smile. "Love does give one a different perspective."

"Mac has no problem using roots or weeds to treat knife or gunshot wounds," Bozer offered. "He's all about improvising when the real stuff isn't available. He once stuffed Jack full of Yarrow and called it a day."

"Homeopathy _is_ the real stuff," Joshua proclaimed as he returned with Mac's tea and a small leather satchel which he handed to his mother. "It's actually the original foundation for many medical cures that physicians embrace today."

"Our family has always incorporated the use of nature and the elements around us." Esme added, in a gentler tone.

"You mean like kitchen witches?" Bozer asked.

"I beg your pardon," Joshua sputtered, nearly spilling Mac's tea as he placed it rather roughly in front of him. His outraged gaze went to Bozer who seemed to recognize his misspeak and held up a hand in defense.

"I didn't mean that in a bad way, only that my grandmother used to talk about the little old ladies from her childhood who whipped up home remedies and potions and such out of the stuff they grew in their gardens. Kitchen witch was a term of respect."

"Does my mother look like some ancient hag with warts who dotes around in her quaint home with a broom and apron, stirring a steaming cauldron, Agent Bozer?"

"No, man, your mom is lit." Bozer gave Esme an abashed look when Dean and Caleb snorted. "I mean that in the most respectful way, Mrs. Ames. Like classy on the cover of Vogue type of hot, not…"

"Shut up, Boze," Mac suggested rubbing a hand over his eyes and instantly regretting it when he touched the injured one. He let out a huff, having witnessed many similar times when Bozer's attempt to take his big foot out of his mouth by continuing to talk only led to him putting the other foot in as well.

"It's fine, Wilt," Esme assured, placing a hand on Bozer's arm. She looked amused, although her son's face had reddened. "I'm very flattered _and_ you are actually correct in that 'kitchen witchery' although an antiquated term and one we wouldn't typically use for our craft today, does indeed call for the use of essential oils, herbs, foods and everyday objects. Much like I use myself." She glanced at Mac. "They also embrace improvising, Angus, as do I. So, I'm not insulted by your assumption. Not in the least."

"Well, I'm insulted on your behalf," Joshua insisted folding his arms over his chest. "My mother is highly accomplished and revered in our circle and shouldn't be subjected to stereotypes. She yields from a highly respected line of elemental crafters who if they chose could…"

"Joshua," Esme interrupted. "That's enough. I'm quite sure that both Wilt and Angus have been placed in a very unusual position, an unenviable one as they aren't used to dealing with our world outside the realm of fantasy novels and science fiction films. I believe we owe them a modicum of understanding and grace." The eyebrow was back. "Don't you?"

"I would never want to stereotype anyone," Bozer gave Joshua a sharp glance when the man had muttered an 'I suppose' to his mother's entreaty, before returning his gaze to Esme. "I apologize if I offended you, but you're right, I'm mostly just going off my extensive knowledge of horror and sci-fi films and Mac is in complete denial."

"Those movies get pretty damn close sometimes." Dean shot Bozer a smile. "Don't sweat it, Dude. I'm the least politically correct person around when it comes to covens. Don't get me started on my vamp and werewolf etiquette. I once pissed off a witchdoctor so much he threatened to hex my sons with male patterned baldness for the next five generations."

"Which is exactly why Joshua asked me to perhaps give a bit of coaching before you all are off on this adventure." Esme pulled her bag closer to her. "No one wants to see Dean Winchester bald."

"Actually I asked you to talk to Dean on the phone, but you insisted on coming in person."

"If the Guardian needs my help then who am I to refuse."

"She wanted to see spies in person," Caleb took another muffin out of the bowl, and Mac suddenly hoped he left a couple for him and Jack as the smell of cinnamon and vanilla had permeated the room, reminding him of a Texas kitchen he loved, one he should have been sneaking around, trying to snatch samples as Nana Beth prepped for Thanksgiving. Instead, he was here in an impossible situation with unbelievable people. "Carolyn, too, if I had to guess," Caleb continued "That's Josh's wife. Also head of our Geek Squad. If she hadn't been on bed rest, she'd wanted to come down to represent. Her and Esme are both Daniel Craig groupies."

"Then you'll probably like Jack," Bozer quipped.

"I can't wait to meet him," Esme didn't deny her stepson's accusations, instead turning to Mac once more. "But for the time being, perhaps I should tell you what I know of Dresden as I understand you are under a bit of a time crunch and need to be on the road soon."

Mac's burgeoning appetite disappeared at the mention of the clock ticking down for his partner. "We are."

She pulled a small silver container from the satchel. "Then I'll explain a bit about her and her coven if you would allow me to put some of this salve on your face and throat."

"Is she a 'kitchen' sort of crafter like yourself?" Mac asked hesitantly, very aware that Joshua was watching them as Esme, delicately dabbed some of the arnica on the bruises on his cheek.

"Unfortunately no. Dresden is what used to be called a 'hedge witch', or a hedge rider." Mac tried not to flinch as the woman's fingers slid over his throat, the skin tender beneath her touch. He wasn't one for physical contact on a good day, not even with those closest to him, so he focused on the conversation instead of the breach of his personal space.

"It's probably where the idea of witches riding brooms heralded. Hedge witches can propel themselves across borders. Some of them, like Dresden, are very strong shamans."

"I'm guessing you're not talking about borders such as the one in Mexico?"

"She's talking about the spiritual boundary, Gus," Dean filled in. "The veil between the world of the living and everything else."

"Everything else?" Bozer asked, his earlier enthusiasm replaced by a tone of wariness Mac recognized from missions when the novelty of their job waned for their newest team member due to a grave danger or disastrous turn of events.

"Perhaps we should just give the agents the slightest of briefings, Mother." Joshua waved a hand towards Mac. "I'm sure Agent MacGyver has little interest in the fine intricacies."

"Is she dangerous?" Mac tried not to glance to Caleb, but the man seemed to since his meaning and shifted in his seat.

"Anyone with access to power can be dangerous, kid." Reaves responded.

Mac had indeed witnessed the dangers that could come from those with any access to an advantage over others. He had, however, never encountered someone who could tear holes in a theoretical curtain between the natural world he knew, and this supernatural zone that the others claimed existed without most human's knowledge.

"Caleb's right." Esme finished her task, wiping her hand on a napkin before returning her salve to her bag. "Those with gifts have the ability to use them for the welfare of others, like those in The Brotherhood, or for their own gain. I wish I could tell you Dresden fell into the first category, but from the rumors I have heard, that's not necessarily the case. It seems she has showed no interest in allegiance to our cause, and merely prefers to work for those who can afford her, or those who can offer her something in return."

"You don't know her?"

"Do you personally know every government agent?" Esme smiled to soften her very pointed question.

Mac shook his head, realizing his misstep. "No."

"From what I do know, she will probably respond favorably to having an audience with The Guardian merely because of the power you hold." Esme looked to Dean. "But Joshua's fears aren't unfounded. She will want something in return."

"Whatever it costs," Mac started. "We can get the money." Matty had promised to pull any strings she could. He'd worry about the repercussions later.

"She'll want something more than money." Joshua propped his hip on the edge of the table, sharing a glance with his mother before looking to Caleb. "I suspect she won't be satisfied with the attentions of the Knight as has been the case in the past with other covens."

"Never underestimate my effect on women." Caleb grinned, but Mac could sense his heart wasn't exactly in the wisecrack. He flashed a worried look to Dean. "Maybe I should handle this one solo, Deuce."

"That could be disastrous for several reasons." Joshua protested. "I could…"

"No. I'm going to talk to her." Dean met Esme's gaze. "If she has something that belongs to The Brotherhood then I want it back."

"The ownership of the sword could be complicated."

"It's not like a bill of sale has stopped me from reclaiming certain artifacts that have fallen into the wrong hands."

"You can't just go in there and demand she return a sword that has been missing since 1945," Joshua insisted. "We don't even know she has it in her possession, only that she was the one who purportedly enchanted it for Patton."

"Watch me," Dean countered and Mac felt his headache kick up a notch.

"Your ring does not give you carte blanche, Dean." Joshua said wearily and Mac imagined this was an old, tired argument between the two. One that if Mac was guessing Dean Winchester always won. "The Guardian is not an enforcer, nor is it wise to risk appearing as one."

Mac rubbed his temple, and Esme pushed the tea towards him. "This will also help with pain."

She returned her things to her bag and folded her hands together. She tilted her head at Dean. "Dresden and her partner Helena own a well-respected antiquities house out of Charleston. Their customer base runs the gambit from collectors to restoration specialists. Interestingly enough, they purportedly lend their services out when certain old houses have a reputation to be haunted."

"They're in the ghost busting business, too?" Caleb asked, his surprise showing.

"They are, and if _I_ wanted an audience with Dresden, one in which she didn't have the upper hand or the advantage to ask for payment, well then I would find a way to meet on neutral territory, where she would feel 'encouraged' to cooperate due to some preparations beforehand." She looked to Joshua. "I think you could help the boys with those, Dear."

"Really, mother?" Joshua sighed.

Esme turned to Mac, a flash of mischief in her hazel eyes. "How are your acting skills, Angus?"

To be continued…


End file.
